Early in the morning they went to Amsterdam, or Amsteldamme, as the Germans call it, because it controls the tides of the Amstel River.

The city of Amsteldamme is situated on a marsh, and all its houses and buildings are erected on piles, which are driven from forty to fifty feet into the earth.

“How many canals!” was Eric’s first remark, when he obtained a good view of the city.

“Yes,” said Mr. Lacelle. “When I was a boy, I counted the bridges across the canals, and there were two hundred and fifty. The city is divided by the canals into ninety islands. Those high walls were once ramparts, but have since been converted into public walks. They are planted with trees, and make excellent promenades.”

“But suppose there should be another war,” said Eric; “what would their defence be?”

“They could easily flood the surrounding country.”

“What splendid streets these are!” said Eric, as they passed through one and another with rows of beautiful shade trees, handsome little stone bridges, broad, clean pavements, and long lines of elegant mansions.

They were indeed very beautiful streets, not easily to be surpassed in all Europe.

“I should think,” said Eric, thoughtfully, “that there would be danger to the people here in having so much water in their town. Do the dikes ever give way?”

“Very seldom. The people watch them very faithfully, and whenever a break is discovered it is instantly repaired. There is a very interesting story connected with the dikes of Holland, which I will tell you, to show you what great service a little boy did his country.

“The little hero, Peter Daik, was on his way home, one night, from a village to which he had been sent by his father on an errand, when he noticed the water trickling through a narrow opening in the dike, built up to keep out the sea.

“He stopped, and thought of what would happen if the hole were not closed.

“He knew—for he had often heard his father tell of the sad disasters which had come from small beginnings—how, in a few hours, the opening would become bigger, and let in the mighty mass of water pressing on the dike, until, the whole defence being washed away, the rolling, dashing, angry sea would sweep on to the next village, destroying life and property, and everything in its way. Should he run home and alarm the villagers? It would be dark before they could arrive; and the hole, even then, might be so large as to defy all attempts to close it. What could he do to prevent such terrible ruin—he, only a little boy?

“I will tell what he did. He sat down on the bank of the canal, stopped the opening with his hand, and patiently awaited the passing of a villager. But no one came.

“Hour after hour rolled slowly by; yet there sat the heroic boy in the cold and darkness, shivering, wet, and tired, but stoutly pressing his hand against the water that tried to pass the dangerous breach.

“All night he staid at his post. At last morning broke, when a clergyman, walking up the canal, heard a groan, and looking around to see where it came from, seeing the boy, and surprised at his strange position, exclaimed with astonishment,—

“‘Why are you there, my child?’

“‘I am keeping back the water, sir, and saving the village from being drowned,’ answered little Peter, with lips so benumbed with cold that he could hardly speak.

“The astonished minister at once relieved him of his hard duty, and the poor little fellow had but just strength enough left to alarm the villagers, who flocked to the dike, and repaired the breach.

“Heroic boy! What a noble spirit of self-devotion he had shown! resolving to brave all the fatigue, the danger, the cold and darkness, rather than permit the ruin which would come if he deserted his post.

“There is a beautiful poem on the subject by Miss Carey. I will repeat a few of the last verses.”

Then Mr. Lacelle repeated in a clear, mellow voice, whose slight foreign accent lent it an additional charm to Eric’s ear,—

They had now come to the Y, an inlet of the Zuyder Zee, where several of the men under Mr. Lacelle were at work.

“Here we are,” said Eric, gladly. “Here we are! Now for my ‘thrilling experience,’ as the newspapers say.”

There was a tent close by, into which they stepped to change their dress for the diver’s costume.

“Nobody would know me now, I am sure,” said Eric to himself, when, with much difficulty, and considerable help from the attendants, he emerged from the tent arrayed in the suit. “I can hardly drag my feet along, they are so heavy; and I’m decidedly glad that my every-day hat is not like this helmet.”

Mr. Lacelle had given him particular directions about diving, and now the life-line and air-hose were adjusted, and the brave boy stood beside the professional diver, waiting for the descent.

The signal was given, and soon Eric was going down underneath the blue, cold waves. He could not see Mr. Lacelle; it seemed as if he were never to stop going down: the water sang around his ears; and seeing nothing but water made him giddy and faint. He thought he must certainly smother, and, for an instant, was thoroughly afraid.

Then he remembered that, at a single touch of the life-line, the men above would instantly draw him up, and, feeling quite at his ease again, began to look about him. To his great joy he saw the bottom, and was presently upon it, and walking towards Mr. Lacelle.

Suddenly a sound like heavy peals of thunder reverberated through the water. At a motion from Mr. Lacelle, Eric looked quickly upward, and saw a school of tiny fish, darting with great velocity towards them, and several large fishes in pursuit of the little ones.

On they came, straight towards Eric and Mr. Lacelle; but just before reaching them, they turned sharply off in the opposite direction; as they turned, the noise increased to a heavy peal, and ceased as they passed from sight.

“How wonderful!” exclaimed Eric, involuntarily; and his voice sounded like roaring and screaming, though he had spoken quite softly.

Mr. Lacelle then held at arm’s length a small cartridge, which he signalled, by the lines, for the men above to ignite. Almost instantly it exploded. Eric was perfectly astounded by the effects of the report.

It seemed as if huge rocks had fallen upon his helmet; and such a crashing, rending sound as accompanied the shock! It was quite as much as he was able to bear in the way of noise. Mr. Lacelle told him afterwards, that the noise of the report in the air would be no louder than that of a common fire-cracker.

Eric hoped that Mr. Lacelle would make no more experiments in sound, and the diver did not seem at all anxious to do so.

It was rather awe-inspiring, Eric thought, to be walking easily about at the bottom of the sea, knowing that around and above him lay the mighty element of death. And there, under the water, the eighth psalm came into his mind, and he realized its beauty as he had never been able to before.

He walked around, picking up shells and curious plants, and being careful to keep near Mr. Lacelle, who was making some calculations about the building of a huge bridge, contemplated by the king. Several large fish swam lazily up to Eric, eyed him curiously, and let themselves be patted upon the back.

“How amused Nettie would be!” he thought, and wished the huge fish were less inquisitive, as he did not particularly fancy them. He was quite interested in the flowers, which were as brilliant and beautiful as any upon the land, when suddenly he discovered a heap of shells quite similar to those which Mr. Lacelle had described the day before. He put several handfuls of them into his diver’s basket, and then, moving off a few steps, he watched to see what they would do.

When all was quiet, they moved slowly at first, then more rapidly, and all crawled away in the same direction.

“That is very curious,” thought Eric to himself. “I wish I knew what they are.”

When he moved again, something struck his foot. Looking quickly down through the window in his helmet, he saw a small, square box, made of tin, and fastened with a padlock. A key was in the lock, and Eric turned it and opened the box, wondering what it could contain. The lid flew back, and disclosed an inner cover, on which was painted a coat of arms, with the name “Arthur Montgomery” engraved beneath. A spring was visible, and, pressing it, Eric disclosed to his astonished vision a number of English sovereigns—gold coins worth about five dollars apiece.

His first impulse was to show the prize to Mr. Lacelle, but he could not readily attract his attention. So, putting the box in his basket after safely locking it, he busied himself with gathering the beautiful flowers within his reach, and storing them in his basket to press for his mother.

Suddenly he felt himself being drawn up slowly towards the surface, and, turning his head, saw that Mr. Lacelle was also ascending.

He knew that they were being drawn up because Mr. Lacelle wished him to catch the return train to Gravenhaag, and had cautioned the men at the pumps not to let them remain under water more than half an hour; but he was extremely surprised to find that the time had passed.

On reaching “terra firma,” so much hurrying had to be done in changing his armor for more convenient land apparel, that he entirely forgot the box of money until seated beside Mr. Lacelle in the carriage. Then he showed it to him.

“That was a find, for so young a submarinist,” said Mr. Lacelle. “It is yours, my boy; divers consider themselves entitled to all such unexpectedly discovered valuables.”

“But,” said Eric, eagerly, “the owner’s name is upon the box; and see! here is a letter addressed to ‘Arthur Montgomery, Bart., Clone, Lancaster County, England.’ I think I ought to return it.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Lacelle, pleased with Eric’s honesty, “conscientiously you ought; but you are not obliged to by law.”

“I would much rather,” said Eric, earnestly. “Will you please to inquire about it, and see that it reaches the owner?” Mr. Lacelle promised, and, seeing Eric safely aboard the cars, bade him good by, and left for Amsteldamme.