window, and beckoned for them to come in. Harold, delighted with so much magnificence, jumped quickly into the coach, without even kissing Edric or his dear little sister Maude, who were not as bold as their brother, but were afraid of the grand princess. The carriage passed rapidly on, and had scarcely disappeared, when a youth resting on a ball that carried him as swiftly as the wind, approached them, and said, "Come! and have glory and honor! Come! and obtain homage and applause! Come! and be famous-be great!" And before the wondering Maude could imagine what the youth had meant, Edric was riding away from his sister on the swift ball.

And now Maude sat down on a rock, quite alone; it grew darker each moment, and the great waves moaned sadly; but Maude was not frightened, for her innocent heart had power to protect her from harm, as she folded her hands and sat quite still, thinking so deeply of her dear brothers, that she heard no approaching foot-fall; and when she lifted her eyes, a serene, beautiful face was turned to hers; by her side sat a man whose garments were dusty, and who appeared to have traveled from a far country. He tenderly took the little hands of Maude between his own, and said, "Dear child, will you follow me? You can neither have riches nor honor, but trials and scorn, perhaps, instead; yet you will have a friend, always true, always willing and able to bestow all you need. His arms will be around you; he will bear all your griefs, and I am he." While saying these words, his countenance became as sweet and radiant as the face of the saint on the chancel at sunset. The golden head of Maude was bent upon her breast; her gentle face was wet with tears but with a low, quivering voice, she said, "Yea, Lord!" And then she heard her friend say, "Look up, Maude! look up!" She raised her tearful but glad eyes; and there before her stood her Friend, clothed in robes of righteousness, surrounded by shining ones, and holding a crown of greater beauty than ever her simple heart had imagined; and she heard these blessed words: "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."

Maude followed her friend closely; she walked in his footsteps; and while some ridiculed, and others wondered that she

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should choose so hard a lot, she remem| bered the crown that was laid up for her. At last the angel, called Death, came for these children; and as he approached, his shadow, Sickness, came before. It went first to Harold, to whom the princess had given many coffers of gold; but he was so afraid of losing his treasure, that he kept it in a deep vault, and hardly dared look at it for fear of being discovered. Whenever a human face met his, he trembled for his gold; they might suspect, he thought, and steal his treasure. It caused him constant unhappiness; and when Sickness came to warn him of Death, his misery increased sevenfold; he could not, would not part with his beloved gold; he was not ready for Death; nevertheless Death came, and the wretched Harold was obliged to leave his treasure.

The shadow then passed over Edric; he had become very famous but there lived one who was yet above him in glory; and this rival he only aspired to surpass ; then he would be perfectly happy. From the time that the figure on the ball, who was the spirit of Fame, had beguiled him from his sister, he had been aiming at only one step higher; but, alas! he was never contented with that which had previously been to him the ideal of perfect happiness. He begged to live just long enough to look down on his superior; but Death was unyielding; and after all his struggles for glory, he had not attained the greatness to which he had aspired.

Then came Death and his shadow to Maude, not as a terrible enemy, not as an inexorable tyrant, as he had seemed to her brothers; but a white-winged messenger of good-tidings—a guide to the portal of heaven. The shadow did not darken her soul, for she thought continually of those shining ones, and of her crown jeweled with stars; and when Death came, she opened her arms and welcomed him ; and he led the child away from the thorny path in which she had so meekly walked, and left her at the entrance to heaven. And there, lifting up her eyes, she saw, standing within the portal, the holy and beautiful form which once appeared to her as she sat upon the rock; his robes were not now soiled, but white as the light; he extended his arms and she fell upon his bosom. He bore her into the midst of the holy ones, and gave her as a companion to them forever.

HOW

OW peaceful is the dwelling-place of those who inhabit the green hamlets and populous cities of the dead! They need no antidote for care, -no armor against fate. No morning sun shines in at the closed windows and awakens them, nor shall unto the last great day. At most, a straggling sunbeam creeps in through the crumbling wall of an old, neglected tomb-a strange visitor, that stays not long. And there they all sleep, the holy ones, with their arms crossed upon their breasts, or lying motionless by their sides, -not carved in marble by the hand of man, but formed in dust by the hand of God. God's peace be with them! No one comes to them now, to hold them by the hand, and with delicate fingers to smooth their hair. They need no more the blandishments of earthly friendship. They need us not, however much we may need them. And yet they silently await our coming. Beautiful is that season of life when we can say, in the language of Scripture, "Thou hast the dew of thy youth." But of these flowers death gathers many. We shall see them all again, blooming in a happier land.

Yes, death brings us again to our friends. They are waiting for us, and we shall not long delay. They have gone before us, and are like the angels in heaven. They stand upon the borders of the VOL. V.-6

grave to welcome us, with the countenance of affection which they wore on earth; yet more lovely, more radiant, more spiritual! He spoke well who said that graves are the footsteps of angels! It was in an hour of blessed communion with the souls of the departed, that the sweet poet Henry Vaughan wrote those few lines which have made death lovely.-Hyperion. THEY are all gone into a world of light,

And I alone sit lingering here!
Their very memory is fair and bright,

And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,

Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which the hill is dress'd,

After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,

Whose light doth trample on my days, My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmerings and decays.

holy hope and high humility,

High as the heavens above! These are your walks, and you have show'd'

them me,

To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous death! the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark!
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know,

At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair field or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.

O Father of eternal life, and all

Created glories under thee!

Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall
Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective, still as they pass,

Or else remove me hence unto that hill
Where I shall need no glass.

[For the National Magazine.] SONNETS:-JUSTICE-MERCY.

JUSTICE.

ALL hail to thee! thou friend of honest men, Whose hand inclines not to the rich or poor;

Thy ready sword is up to strike again

The selfish slaves it often struck before;

But still thy sword, O vengeful justice! falls Full late at times upon the plundering crew; The orphan's cry-the widow's wail appalls The honest heart, whose hand, though poor,

is true.

Still retributive Justice has a settling day,

When all accounts must balance to a hair; And though the wavering scales to selfish motives sway,

Our souls are surety for the just repair: Hard hands may wring the heart's blood from the poor,

But, O! like Abel's, once, it crieth at their door.

MERCY.

O! meek-eyed Mercy! messenger of God,

Sweet is thy presence to the trembling soulTo thee stern Justice yields her vengeful rod, Repentance blesses meekly thy control. She pleads to God, weak, erring man to spare; Her tears arrest the master's iron hand :Then how shall they, who turn a listless ear, The God of mercy in their turn withstand? For he that feels no mercy for his slave,

Shall plead in vain when death himself shall come;

There's no repentance past the gloomy grave,
There is no mercy in the silent tomb;
Then, O, be merciful to those that sue!
While God his mercy still extends to you.

S. H. D.

E now come to the consideration of

WE

the third Crusade, and of the causes which rendered it necessary. The epidemic frenzy, which had been cooling ever since the issue of the first expedition, was now extinct, or very nearly so, and the nations of Europe looked with cold indifference upon the armaments of their princes. But chivalry had flourished in its natural element of war, and was now in all its glory. It continued to supply armies for the Holy Land when the popular ranks refused to deliver up their ablebodied swarms. Poetry, which, more than religion, inspired the third Crusade, was then but "caviare to the million," who had other matters, of sterner import, to claim all their attention. But the knights and their retainers listened with delight to the martial and amatory strains of the minstrels, minnesängers, trouvéres, and troubadours, and burned to win favor in ladies' eyes by showing prowess in the Holy Land. The third was truly the romantic era of the Crusades. Men fought then, not so much for the sepulcher of Jesus, and the maintenance of a Christian kingdom in the East, as to gain glory for themselves in the best and almost only field where glory could be obtained. They fought, not as zealots, but as soldiers; not for religion, but for honor; not for the

crown of martyrdom, but for the favor of the lovely.

It is not necessary to enter into a detail of the events by which Saladin attained the sovereignty of the East; or how, after a succession of engagements, he planted the Moslem banner once more upon the battlements of Jerusalem. The Christian knights and population, including the grand orders of St. John, the Hospitallers, and the Templars, were sunk in an abyss of vice, and, torn by unworthy jealousies and dissensions, were unable to resist the welltrained armies which the wise and mighty Saladin brought forward to crush them. But the news of their fall created a painful sensation among the chivalry of Europe, whose noblest members were linked to the dwellers in Palestine by many ties, both of blood and friendship. The news of the great battle of Tiberias, in which Saladin defeated the Christian host with terrible slaughter, arrived first in Europe, and was followed in quick succession by that of the capture of Jerusalem, Antioch, Tripoli, and other cities. Dismay seized upon the clergy. The Pope, Urban III., was so affected by the news that he pined away for grief, and was scarcely seen to smile again, until he sank into the sleep of death. His successor, Gregory VIII., felt the loss as acutely, but had better

strength to bear it, and instructed all the clergy of the Christian world to stir up the people to arms for the recovery of the Holy Sepulcher. William, Archbishop of Tyre, a humble follower in the path of Peter the Hermit, left Palestine to preach to the kings of Europe the miseries he had witnessed, and to incite them to the rescue. The renowned Frederick Barbarossa, the Emperor of Germany, speedily collected an army, and passing over into Syria with less delay than had ever before awaited a crusading force, defeated the Saracens, and took possession of the city of Iconium. He was unfortunately cut off in the middle of his successful career, by imprudently bathing in the Cydnus* while he was overheated, and the Duke of Suabia took the command of the expedition. The latter

did not prove so able a general, and met with nothing but reverses, although he was enabled to maintain a footing at Antioch until assistance arrived from Europe.

Henry II. of England and Philip Augustus of France, at the head of their chivalry, supported the Crusade with all their influence, until wars and dissensions nearer home estranged them from it for a time. The two kings met at Gisors in Normandy in the month of January, 1188, accompanied by a brilliant train of knights and warriors. William of Tyre was present, and expounded the cause of the cross with considerable eloquence, and the whole assembly bound themselves by oath to proceed to Jerusalem. It was agreed

The desire of comparing two great men has tempted many writers to drown Frederick in the river Cyduus, in which Alexander so imprudently bathed, (Q. Curt. lib. iii, c. 4, 5;) but, from the march of the emperor, I rather judge that his Saleph is the Cacadnus, a stream of less fame, but of a longer course.-Gibbon.

at the same time that a tax, called Saladin's tithe, and consisting of the tenth part of all possessions, whether landed or personal, should be enforced over Christendom, upon every one who was either unable or unwilling to assume the cross. The lord of every feoff, whether lay or ecclesiastical, was charged to raise the tithe within his own jurisdiction; and any one who refused to pay his quota, became by that act the bondman and absolute property of his lord. At the same time the greatest indulgence was shown to those who assumed the cross; no man was at liberty to stay them by process of any kind, whether for debt, or robbery, or murder. The king of France, at the breaking up of the conference, summoned a parliament at Paris, where these resolutions were solemnly confirmed, while Henry II. did the same for his Norman possessions at Rouen, and for England at Geddington, in Northamptonshire. To use the words of an ancient chronicler, (Stowe,)" he held a parliament about the voyage into the Holy Land, and troubled the whole land with the paying of tithes toward it."

But it was not England alone that was "troubled" by the tax. The people of France also looked upon it with no pleasant feelings, and appear from that time forth to have changed their indifference for the Crusade into aversion. Even the clergy, who were exceedingly willing that other people should contribute half, or even all their goods, in furtherance of their favorite scheme, were not at all anxious to contribute a single sous themselves.

Millot relates that several of them cried out against the impost. Among the rest, the clergy of Rheims were called upon to pay their quota, but sent a deputation to the king, begging him to be contented with the aid of their prayers, as they were too poor to contribute in any other shape. Philip Augustus knew better, and by way nobles of the vicinity to lay waste the of giving them a lesson, employed three Church lands. The clergy, informed of the outrage, applied to the king for redress. monarch condescendingly, "and will en"I will aid you with my prayers," said the treat those gentlemen to let the Church alone." He did as he had promised; but in such a manner that the nobles, who appreciated the joke, continued their devastations as before. Again the clergy applied to the king. "What would you have