We rode straight to the water's edge, where our conductor made a signal. A boat put off from the ship, and in a few minutes we found ourselves on board. What a strange, desolate thing it seemed to watch the shore of England fading away, and think that in all likelihood, I should never see it again. In truth, we came near to never seeing any shore again, for the breeze increased to a gale, and for some time we were in a good deal of danger. But our ship was stout, and the Dutch are bold and skillful sailors, and so it came to pass that on the fifth morning after leaving England, I opened my eyes, and, looking at the tiny window, I caught sight of a low-lying bit of green. I was not many minutes in arranging my dress and joining my uncle on deck. What a strange scene it was! We were sailing on what seemed a great inland lake, shifting our course every five minutes. All about, now near at hand, now on the far horizon, were long lines of high green banks, over which peeped, now and then, the top of a tree, or a fantastical church steeple, with a fish-shaped weather-vane. The sky was clear, and a fresh, pleasant breeze was blowing; but the water was still rough from last night's storm, and seemed, even to my inexperienced eye, to be full of currents and eddies. It was the oddest landscape, if landscape it could be called, that I had ever seen, and seemed as if it might have come up from Neptune's kingdom, like a whale, to have a breath of fresh air and a look at the world, and might be expected to dive again at any moment. And, indeed, it hath a trick of diving at times with unreverent suddenness. More than once while I lived there, we heard of a whole town or district disappearing in the night, leaving no trace to show where it had been. "What is this, uncle?" I asked. "This is Holland, my niece—Holland, our asylum, and that of many another wanderer. These are the Isles of Zealand, and we shall soon be at home." My uncle spoke in a tone of enthusiasm which I could not understand. "And what are these great green banks which we see on every side? Are they ramparts?" "Ay, child, ramparts against the Dutchman's greatest foe and best friend, the sea. But for them, all yonder fertile fields would be under water, or at least but stagnant morasses, the haunts of wild fowl." "The enemy seems to have had the best of it yonder!" said I, pointing to a place where innumerable active little figures were running to and fro, like ants in a disturbed ant-hill. "Yes, I doubt we shall hear of mischief," said the captain, who could speak English very well. "Such a gale as we have had makes wild work with the dykes, though 'twas not as bad as though it had blown from another quarter." "But who has built all these great arks?" I ventured to ask, looking with amazement at the high banks and heavy stone-work, which I could now see quite plainly.