dying in the fatal trenches, as if there had been no graves at home.
Those insatiable sand-banks seemed ready to absorb all the gold and all
the life of Christendom. But the monotony of that misery it is useless
to chronicle. Hardly an event of these dreary days has been left
unrecorded by faithful diarists and industrious soldiers, but time has
swept us far away from them, and the world has rolled on to fresher
fields of carnage and ruin. All winter long those unwearied,
intelligent, fierce, and cruel creatures toiled and fought in the
stagnant waters, and patiently burrowed in the earth. It seemed that
if Ostend were ever lost it would be because at last entirely bitten
away and consumed. When there was no Ostend left, it might be that
the archduke would triumph.

As there was always danger that the movements on the east side might be
at last successful, it was the command of Maurice that the labours to
construct still another harbour should go on in case the Gullet should
become useless, as the old haven had been since the beginning of the
siege. And the working upon that newest harbour was as dangerous to the
Hollanders as Bucquoy's dike-building to the Spaniards, for the pioneers
and sappers were perpetually under fire from the batteries which the
count had at, last successfully established on the extremity of his work.
It was a piteous sight to see those patient delvers lay down their spades
and die, hour after hour, to be succeeded by their brethren only to share
their fate. Yet still the harbour building progressed; for the republic
was determined that the city should be open to the sea so long as the
States had a stiver, or a ship, or a spade.

While this deadly industry went on, the more strictly military operations
were not pretermitted day nor night. The Catholics were unwearied in
watching for a chance of attack, and the Hollanders stood on the ramparts