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the forest, chanting the evening service, to the solemn accompaniment of an organ. The heart of the good cavalier melted at the sound, for it recalled the happier days of his country. Urging forward his weary steed, he at length arrived at a broad grassy area, on the summit of the hill, surrounded by the forest. Here the melodious voices rose in full chorus, like the swelling of the breeze; but whence they came, he could not tell. Sometimes they were before, sometimes behind him; sometimes in the air, sometimes as if from within the bosom of the earth. At length they died away, and a holy stillness settled on the place. The cavalier gazed around with bewildered


There neither chapel nor convent, nor humble hermitage, to be seen; nothing but a moss-grown stone pinnacle, rising out of the centre of the area, surmounted by a cross. The green sward around appeared to have been sacred from the tread of man or beast, and the surrounding trees bent toward the cross, as if in adoration.

The cavalier felt a sensation of holy awe. He alighted and tethered his steed on the skirts of the forest, where he might crop the tender herbage ; then approaching the cross, he knelt and poured forth his evening prayers before this relique of the christian days of Spain. His orisons being concluded, he laid himself down at the foot of the pinnacle, and reclining his head against one of its stones, fell into a deep sleep.

About midnight, he was awakened by the tolling of a bell, and found himself lying before the gate of an ancient convent. A train of nuns passed by, each bearing a taper. The cavalier rose and followed them into the chapel ; in the centre of which was a bier, on which lay the corpse of an aged nun. The organ performed a solemn requiem: the nuns joining in chorus. When the funeral service was finished, a melodious voice chanted, 'Requiescat in pace!' — May she rest in peace!' The lights immediately vanished; the whole passed away as a dream; and the cavalier found himself at the foot of the cross, and beheld, by the faint rays of the rising moon, his steed quietly grazing near him.

When the day dawned, the cavalier descended the hill, and fol. lowing the course of a small brook, came to a cave, at the entrance of which was seated an ancient man, clad in hermit's garb, with rosary and cross, and a beard that descended to his girdle. He was one of those holy anchorites permitted by the Moors to live unmolested in dens and caves, and bumble hermitages, and even to practice the rites of their religion. The cavalier checked his horse, and dismounting, knelt and craved a benediction. He then related all that had befallen him in the night, and besought the hermit to explain the mystery.

What thou hast heard and seen, my son,' replied the other, ‘is but a type and shadow of the woes of Spain.'

He then related the foregoing story of the miraculous deliverance of the convent.

• Forty years,' added the holy man, 'have elapsed since this event, yet the bells of that sacred edifice are still heard, from time to time, sounding from under ground, together with the pealing of the organ, and the chanting of the choir. The Moors avoid this neighborhood, as haunted ground, and the whole place, as thou mayest perceive, has become covered with a thick and lonely forest.'

The cavalier listened with wonder to the story of this engulphed convent, as related by the holy man. For three days and nights did they keep vigils beside the cross; but nothing more was to be seen of nun or convent. It is supposed that, forty years having elapsed, the natural lives of all the nuns were finished, and that the cavalier had beheld the obsequies of the last of the sisterhood. Certain it is, that from that time, bell, and organ, and choral chant, have never more been heard.

The mouldering pinnacle, surmounted by the cross, still remains an object of pious pilgrimage. Some say that it anciently stood in front of the convent, but others assert that it was the spire of the sacred edifice, and that, when the main body of the building sank, this remained above ground, like the top-mast of some tall ship that has been foundered. These pious believers maintain, that the convent is miraculously preserved entire in the centre of the mountain, where, if proper excavations were made, it would be found, with all its treasures, and monuments, and shrines, and reliques, and the tombs of its virgin nuns.

Should any one doubt the truth of this marvellous interposition of the Virgin, to protect the vestal purity of her votaries, let him read the excellent work entitled · España Triumphante,' written by Padre Fray Antonio de Sancta Maria, a bare-foot friar of the Carmelite order, and he will doubt no longer.

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Near the town of Freitville, on the borders of Tourraine, appeared two monarchs, each with his magnificent retinue, and an exiled Archbishop. The king of France, Louis, with the hope of reconciling the prelate to his sovereign, Henry, King of England, proposed a meeting in the place just mentioned. As soon as the Archbishop (it was Thomas à-Becket) appeared, Henry spurred forward bis horse, and uncovered his head. The Archbishop dismounted, and throwing himself at the feet of the king, .To your decision, Sire,' he exclaimed, “I commit the cause of our mutual disagreement, saving the honor of God.'

At these words, Henry turned pale. Whatever is displeasing to us both,' he returned, should be deemed contrary to the honor of God.'

After some private and familiar conversation, ' Before my reign,' he continued, there have been many kings of England : before your appointment, there have been many Archbishops of Canterbury. Now, my Lord, concede to me what the greatest among your predecessors conceded to the least of mine.'

A voice exclaimed : “ The King's demand is just, and must be respected.'

My Lord Archbishop,' said Louis, not descrying the snare that was laid under this captious proposal, .do you pretend to be wiser or better than the saints ? Peace is offered

you are bound to My predecessors,' replied the Archbishop, were more holy than I am ; but, it is my duty to imitate their virtues, not their foibles.'

The two monarchs abruptly mounted their horses, and rode off. The Archbishop followed. "Henry threw back his eyes upon Becket with malignant satisfaction. To-day,' he cried, 'I have had revenge!

accept it.'

After exhausting every artifice to prejudice the Pope against the prelate; after exposing his kingdom to the evils of an interdict, and his person to excommunication ; Henry became at last convinced that the only means to rescue himself from the impending calamities, would be to effect a reconciliation with Becket. He therefore invited him to return to England, where he was received with apparent joy. But the King soon revoked all the concessions made, and evinced again a spirit of animosity, which proved that the prospect of peace had not yet dawned.

His arrival filled his enemies with consternation. One of them was heard to affirm, that before he eats a loaf of English bread, he shall lose his life !' At Sandwich, six miles from Canterbury, he was met by Roger, Bishop of York, Gilbert, of London, and Jocelin, of Salisbury, by whom he was conducted in safety to his See, where he was received amid the enthusiastic acclamations of the people.

He was immediately surrounded by the royal ministers, commanding him, on the part of the king, to absolve the bishops who were suspended and excommunicated by the Pope ; as the injury done them redounded to the person of the monarch, and tended to the subversion of the customs of England.

• It is not in the power of an inferior to remove the sentence of a superior,' was his reply. “Nevertheless,' he added, “ for the sake of peace,

and the reverence due the king, I will take upon myself to absolve them, provided they will swear to be obedient to the Holy See.'

Such a step cannot be taken,' responded the Bishop of York, * without first consulting the will of the king.'

A letter was immediately despatched to Henry, who was still in France, exaggerating the pretended evil, and arousing his passions to such a degree, that he exclaimed, in a fury: 'All who participated in the coronation of my son are excommunicated, eh!- then by the eyes of heaven! I am of the number!' He accused his friends of ingratitude, and lamented that of all who ate his bread, there was not a man courageous enough to rid him of a turbulent Churchman!'

Among those who heard this passionate expression of the king, were four knights, Hugh de Moresville, William Tracy, Reginald Fitzurse, and Richard Brito. They immediately entered on a conspiracy, and on Christmas night swore to despatch the Archbishop. They sailed forthwith for England, and arrived near Canterbury, for the festival of the Holy Innocents. The next evening they abruptly entered his apartments, and with the hope of intimidating him, commanded him to absolve the excommunicated prelates.

• It was with the royal permission,' he replied, “I published the letters of the Pontiff. The case of the Archbishop of York was reserved to the Holy See. The others I am willing to absolve, on condition that they make oath to submit to the decision of the Church. I am surprised,' he continued, 'that you should threaten me in my own house.'

• We shall do more than threaten !' was their fierce and boding reply.

When they withdrew, he was advised to retire, for greater safety, to the church. The monks were now chanting vespers in the

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choir. When he heard the doors close after them, 'Open them! he said ; 'the church should not be guarded like a camp!'

As he was ascending the steps of the choir, the four knights, followed by twelve companions, all in full armor, were led into the church. Instantly, his attendants, with the exception of Edward Grim, his cross-bearer, fled away.

• Where is the traitor ? vociferated Hugh de Horsea, a military deacon.

• Here is the Archbishop,' answered Becket,' but no traitor. What do you wish, Reginald ? If you come to take my life, I command you, in the name of God, not to molest my people.'

Then throwing himself upon his knees, and reclining his head, he recommended himself and the cause of the Church to God, the Blessed Virgin, and St. Denis. An assassin levelled a blow at his head. Grim parried it with his arm, which was broken. A second stroke felled him to the ground. Hugh de Horsea, planting his foot on the martyr's neck, drew out his brains with his sword, and scattered them over the pavement.

The month of December, Anno 1170, beheld this catastrophe. His body was interred by the monks in the vaults of the Cathedral.

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"Since the treaty, some of the Jodians have said they will never leave this country; if they can find no place to stay, they will spend the rest of their days in walking up and down the Maumee, mourning over the wretched state of their people.'

Van Taseel's JOURNAL.


I stoop in a dream on the banks of Maumee;
,'T was autumn, and Nature seemed wrapt in decay :
The wind moaning crept through the shivering tree,

The leaf from the bough drifted slowly away;
The gray eagle screamed on the marge of the stream,

The solitude answered the bird of the free:
How lonely and sad was the scene of my dream,

And mournful the hour, on the banks of Maumee !


A form passed before me; a vision of one

Who mourned for his nation, his country, and kin; He walked on the shores, now deserted and lone,

Where the homes of his tribe, in their glory, had been; And shade after shade o'er his sad spirit stole,

As wave follows wave o'er the turbulent sea; And this lamentation he breathed from his soul,

O'er the ruins of home, on the banks of Maumee:


'As the hunter at morn, in the snows of the wild,

Recalls to his mind the sweet visions of night,
When sleep, softly falling, his sorrows beguiled,

And opened his eyes in the land of delight:
So backward I muse on the dream of my youth;

Ye peace-giving hours! O, when did ye fee?
When the Christian neglected his pages of truth,

And the Great Spirit frowned on the banks of Maumee !

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