ter of the forts, and to reserve their fire until the enemy came within close range. He might just as well have advised the winds, as to have issued commands to that terrified host. They fired at random, and then fled precipitately. There was no shelter open to them. On the one side were the gates of Antwerp inexorably closed. On the other side was the Catholic army, which was loyal to the Spanish King. The result was a wholesale massacre. Only about the person of Thoulouse, who was surrounded by a hundred intrepid soldiers, was there the semblance of a battle.
Bravely did this little band defend themselves against unequal odds.
"Will not the Prince of Orange send us help?" asked one of the soldiers of Thoulouse.
"No, my men. The Prince has never regarded the 'beggar movement' favorably. Death is before us, and every man of you must make up his mind to die."
A sigh escaped his lips. He was young, only twenty years of age, and life was sweet. He had left a beautiful young wife in Antwerp,—cruel Antwerp, that would not send succor in his extremity. But he levelled his musket without a tremor, and his unerring aim proved that his nerves were steady.
These rough beggars were thoroughly sobered
