end his days in peace, so long as he was not meddled with. But the clever statesmen who managed the thinking part of his business saw, with admirable clearness, that sitting still was the most dangerous thing he could do. Money and all the good things of this earth were flowing in upon him, and they very justly feared that if he were allowed quietly to sit down and eat and drink as much as he liked, he would begin to grow dangerously stout, sleep a great deal, work less and less, until at last some one would come on tiptoe behind him while he was dozing, upset his tub, send him rolling on the ground, and do with him pretty much what he pleased. This the statesmen would allow on no account, so in a few years' time they had begun a war with Portugal, and a part of the fleet was sent off to bombard Lisbon.

In 1658, Charles, the King of Sweden, happened to take it into his head, for reasons which I cannot very well explain here, that he should very much like to have Denmark added to his kingdom. He collected a large army and navy, sailed from the Swedish coast across to the island of Seeland, landed his troops, enclosed the town of Copenhagen on land by his army and at sea by his fleet, and swore that he would not go away until he had taken the town. The King of Denmark sent in a hurry to the Hague, and the States immediately promised help, for they had already a bone to pick with the Swedish king. Wassenaer and De With were summoned at once, a fleet was got ready, and in the beginning of November

it appeared at that narrow entrance of the Baltic which is known as the Sound. On each side of the channel the Swedes had a formidable fortress, and a large fleet, under the celebrated Admiral Wrangel, lay behind it to dispute the passage of the Dutch.

On the morning of the 8th, when the sun had risen, Wassenaer signalled the fleet to advance. De With had begged to be allowed to lead the van, and with his ship, the Brederode,' which had carried his old rival Tromp so long, he sailed into the Channel. Under a heavy fire from the forts on each shore, to which he returned not a shot, he sailed straight up to the Swedish Admiral and gave him a broadside. The Swedish Vice-Admiral thereupon approaching, De With rushed about the deck frantically exclaiming, 'I must board him, I must board him; he shall not escape.' Engaged in close conflict with this opponent, he was beset by two others; but his fire was so well aimed that one of them received a shot in the powder stores and was blown up, while the other was obliged to withdraw. Even the Vice-Admiral was constrained to slacken his fire, when unfortunately De With's ship was carried away by some capricious current and fixed on a shoal. He signalled, but no one could come to his assistance. Meanwhile a second vessel attacked him in the rear, while the Swedish Vice-Admiral still threatened him in front. For two hours he returned this cross fire with coolness and intrepidity, signalling at intervals for assistance which came not, for the battle was raging hotly in the Sound. At this hour

L

a bullet wounded him in the leg, and he fell, but being supported by some of his officers, he refused to leave the deck, and continued to issue his commands. Not long afterwards a second bullet wounded him in a vital part. He had barely strength enough to exclaim, 'Fear not the face of your enemies, but remember the great Lord, and fight for your wives and children.' But the greatness of the calamity overwhelmed his men with terror. The enemy perceived it, and rushed on to the deck of the vessel. When the dying Admiral beheld this outrage to a ship which had never seen an enemy, the fierce, indomitable spirit blazed up once more. He crawled to his knees and seized the sword which he would not surrender. Feebly, for he was exhausted with loss of blood and approaching death, he strove with many a gasp against the overwhelming host. Overpowered, and gently seized, he was led with faltering steps across a plank to the enemy's vessel. His spirit still lingered as he listened to the sounds of battle around him. There was an evident trouble on his mind, and he asked frequently what had become of his ship. When he was at last informed that she had sunk without having surrendered to the enemy, he laid his head down contentedly and died.

The Swedish king, who had watched the engagement from shore, was moved to tears when he beheld the body, and for three days it was exposed in state to the populace. Wrapped in white satin, and conducted by one of the bravest Swedish captains, in a

frigate draped with black crape, the body was then sent to the Netherlands, as a tribute from the enemy to so much valour. He was buried with much pomp, and at the country's expense, in Rotterdam. The procession that followed the hearse was almost endless; but although everyone admitted his great qualities, and could not deny the eminent services which he had rendered to the Republic, it was sad to reflect that he had produced a spirit of dissatisfaction in the fleet, which on more than one occasion had seriously endangered the welfare of the country.

MICHIEL ADRIANSZOON DE RUYTER.

PART I.

THERE was not, in the whole of that busy little Holland, a busier or more prosperous little town than Flushing. Even at present, although the steamboat and railway have drawn much of its trade to other parts, it has maintained so comfortable a footing that it remains the envy of many a neighbouring town. But two hundred and fifty years ago it was a sight worth seeing, when from the quay of the city you gazed on a thick forest of masts and spars, while whole fleets, consisting at times of hundreds of ships, sailed away for the Baltic, or arrived from America, or lay at anchor in the stream waiting for cargo. There was a rowing of little boats backwards and forwards, and an eager bustling of merchants and captains, brawny porters almost doubled under heavy burdens, sailors hurrying ashore to get their pay, and soldiers hastening aboard their new ship. There was a hubbub of voices in many a foreign tongue, buying, selling, or haggling over a few groats, laughing at some old joke, or giving a hearty welcome to an old friend; while