M. Havard merits the space we have given him; for he describes a work the like of which has never been seen elsewhere in the world, any more than have the conditions which necessitated it.  But the picturesqueness of the actual scene can hardly be conveyed in words.  Under an azure sky we behold outstretched a sparkling sea, its waters shading from green to blue and from yellow to violet, harmoniously blending.  In the distance, as though marking the horizon, stretches a long, green strip of land, with the spires of the churches standing out in strong relief against the sky.  At our feet is the Zinkstuk, surrounded by its flotilla.  The great red sails furled upon the masts, the green poops, the rudders sheathed with burnished copper, the red streaks along the sides of the boats, the colored shirts, brown vests, and blue girdles of the men, touched by the warm rays of the sun, compose a striking picture.  On all sides the men are in motion, and five hundred brawny arms are flinging the contents of the boats upon the great raft; a truly Titanic stoning!  Projectiles rain from all sides without pause, until the moment comes when the decisive command is to be given.  Then silence, absolute and impressive, falls upon the multitude.  Suddenly the signal is given; a creaking noise is heard; the fifty boats right themselves at the same instant, and turn toward the point where the great raft which had separated them has just disappeared.  They bump against one another, they get entangled, they group themselves in numberless different ways.  The swarming men, stooping and raising up, the uplifted arms, the flying stones, the spurting water covering the boats with foam; and in the midst of the confusion the polder-jungens flinging the clods of earth with giant strength and swiftness upon the raft.  At certain points the tumult declines; flags are hoisted from the tops of masts, the large sails are shaken out, and aided by the breeze some vessels get loose, sail out, and desert the field of battle.  These are they whose task is done, and which are empty.  They retire one by one upon the great expanse of water, which, save in one spot, was a little while ago deserted, and is now overspread with the vessels making their various ways toward that green line on the horizon.

This is a conflict not of days, nor of years, nor of generations, but of all time; and what the end will be none can foretell.  It is the concrete symbol of the everlasting fight of man with nature, which means civilization.  The day may come when, where once Holland was, will be outspread the serene waters of the sea, hiding beneath them the records of the stupendous struggle of so many centuries.  Or, perhaps, some mysterious shifting of the ocean bottom may not only lift Holland out of peril, but uncover mighty tracts of land which, in the prehistoric past, belonged to Europe.  Meanwhile it is easy to understand that the people who can wage this ceaseless war for their homes and lives, are the sons of those heroes who curbed the might of Spain, and taught the world the lessons of freedom and independence.