J. W. Harrison,]

[Publisher.

A TALE OF THE TIME OF THE CRUSADES.

It was on a beautiful evening in the yearthat a small cavalcade might be seen wending its way along the narrow path that led to the Monastery of St. Agnes. At the head of the train rode the young Count Charlois De Begnis, the marvellous strength of whose arm many an infidel had felt, and whose fame extended over all Europe. When the Crusades commenced he collected his followers, and placing himself at their head, sallied forth to the "Holy Land," where, with his sword, he won a name that long resounded throughout Europe. He was tall, and of a commanding mein, and the "contour" of his face was decidedly handsome: the light armour in which he was clad shewed the symmetry of his slight though powerful form to advantage. A few paces behind him rode a score of armed followers, his attendants, who formed a defence against the desperadoes and banditti, by whom the country was infested.

"How near is our journey's end?" said the youth, addressing himself to Jerome, who acted as the guide, and who it seems was well acquainted with the country through which they were passing.

"Nay, and if you are weary sir, I know no better resting place than the Monastery of St. Agnes."

"The Monastery of St. Agnes ?" repeated the youth, apparently much startled.

66

Ay, and why not? is not St. Agnes as good as any other saint?"

"She may be better for aught I know; yet I cannot divest myself of a feeling of foreboding danger, for know you not, Jerome, that my father was- 99

"Ay," rejoined the other, "he was a warrior that seldom met his equal; and near this very spot did the good old Count De Begnis meet his death. Here the rival parties of De Begnis and De Cambi met in deadly conflict: it was a goodly sight to see them ranged under their respective banners, with their leaders at their head, waiting impatiently for the signal to commence. Anon the word is given-on they

charge, like the rushing avalanche, that sweeps away every thing in its course-banner and pennon mingle together, and the battle grows more and more intense: thrice had the Count De Begnis singled out De Cambi from among the combatants; and the warfare ceased not until the sun had sunk to rest in the west; yet De Begnis saw it not, for he too had gone to his rest."

"What! slain by De Cambi?"

"No; all his attempts to bring him to combat were futile; and in his eagerness he was surrounded and borne down by numbers, ere his attendants could extricate him."

As he finished speaking, he turned towards the youth whom he had addressed, and beheld his eyes suffused with tears called forth by the accounts of his father's death, while he, unconscious of the pain the recital had produced, was preparing to re-commence his tale, when his attention was suddenly attracted by another object, which caused him to remark:

"Now God and our Lady be praised for the rest which is in store for us, and our poor steeds too, which I think need it as much as ourselves." As he finished speaking they gained the elevated piece of ground upon which the monastery stood.

It was an antique building of the thirteenth century, of rude but strong construction, with three doors in front; the centre door, which was the principal entrance, was much larger than the two lateral ones; from its outward appearance it might have been taken for the strong-hold of some feudal lord. It was situated on an eminence, from which there was a gradual descent to the plains below; on the right flowed a clear and placid stream, along the borders of which grew the bending willow, and the tall aspiring poplar; the whole appearance of the place, as viewed by the travellers, assisted by the beautiful moonlight, was well calculated to inspire their breasts with a religious feeling of awe, and to inculcate in their hearts a love of virtue and a dread of vice. Charlois placed a small horn, which was suspended from