parasites liked to remind him of. The pope, of course, encouraged his design, and once more the chivalry of Europe began to bestir themselves. In 1268, Edward, the heir of the English monarchy, announced his determination to join the Crusade; and the pope (Clement IV.) wrote to the prelates and clergy to aid the cause by their persuasions and their revenues. In England, they agreed to contribute the tenth of their possessions; and by a parliamentary order, a twentieth was taken from the corn and movables of all the laity at Michaelmas.

In spite of the remonstrances of the few clear-headed statesmen who surrounded him, urging the ruin that might in consequence fall upon his then prosperous kingdom, Louis made every preparation for his departure. The warlike nobility were nothing loath; and in the spring of 1270 the king set sail with an army of sixty thousand men. He was driven by stress of weather into Sardinia, and while there a change in his plans took place. Instead of proceeding to Acre, as he originally intended, he shaped his course for Tunis, on the African coast. The king of Tunis had some time previously expressed himself favorably disposed toward the Christians and their religion, and Louis, it appears, had hopes of converting him, and securing his aid against the sultan of Egypt. "What honor would be mine," he used to say, "if I could become godfather to this Mussulman king!" Filled with this idea he landed in Africa, near the site of the city of Carthage, but he found that he had reckoned without his host. The king of Tunis had no thoughts of renouncing his religion, nor intention of aiding the Crusaders in any way. On the contrary, he opposed their landing with all the forces that could be collected on so sudden an emergency. The French, however, made good their first position, and defeated the Moslems with considerable loss. They also gained some advantage over the reinforcements that were sent to oppose them; but an infectious flux appeared in the army, and put a stop to all future victories. The soldiers died at the rate of a hundred in a day. The enemy, at the same time, made as great havoc as the plague. St. Louis himself was one of the first attacked by the disease. His constitution had been weakened by fatigues, and even before he left France he was unable to bear the full

weight of his armor. It was soon evident to his sorrowing soldiers that their beloved monarch could not long survive. He lingered for some days, and died in Carthage in the fifty-sixth year of his age, deeply regretted by his army and his subjects, and leaving behind him one of the most singular reputations in history. He is the model-king of ecclesiastical writers, in whose eyes his very defects became virtues, because they were manifested in furtherance of their cause. More unprejudiced historians, while they condemn his fanaticism, admit that he was endowed with many high and rare qualities; that he was in no one point behind his age, and in many in advance of it.

His brother, Charles of Anjou, in consequence of a revolution in Sicily, had become king of that country. Before he heard of the death of Louis, he had sailed from Messina with large reinforcements. On his landing near Carthage, he advanced at the head of his army, amid the martial music of drums and trumpets. He was soon informed how inopportune was his rejoicing, and shed tears before his whole army, such as no warrior would have been ashamed to shed. A peace was speedily agreed upon with the king of Tunis, and the armies of France and Sicily returned to their homes.

So little favor had the Crusade found in England, that even the exertions of the heir to the throne had only collected a small force of fifteen hundred men. With these few Prince Edward sailed from Dover to Bourdeaux, in the expectation that he would find the French king in that city. St. Louis, however, had left a few weeks previously; upon which Edward followed him to Sardinia, and afterward to Tunis. Before his arrival in Africa, St. Louis was no more, and peace had been concluded between France and Tunis. He determined, however, not to relinquish the Crusade. Returning to Sicily, he passed the winter in that country, and endeavored to augment his little army. In the spring he set sail for Palestine, and arrived in safety at Acre. The Christians were torn, as usual, by mutual jealousies and animosities. The two great military orders were as virulent and as intractable as ever; opposed to each other, and to all the world. The arrival of Edward had the effect of causing them to lay aside their unworthy contention, and of

uniting heart to heart in one last effort for the deliverance of their adopted country. A force of six thousand effective warriors was soon formed to join those of the English prince, and preparations were made for the renewal of hostilities. The Sultan Bibars or Bendocdar,* a fierce Mameluke, who had been placed on the throne by a bloody revolution, was at war with all his neighbors, and unable, for that reason, to concentrate his whole strength against them. Edward took advantage of this, and marching boldly forward to Nazareth, defeated the Turks and gained possession of that city. This was the whole amount of his successes. The hot weather engendered disease among his troops, and he himself, the life and soul of the expedition, fell sick among the first. He had been ill for some time, and was slowly recovering, when a messenger desired to speak with him on important matters, and to deliver some dispatches into his own hand. While the prince was occupied in examining them, the traitorous messenger drew a dagger from his belt and stabbed him in the breast. The wound fortunately was not deep, and Edward had regained a portion of his strength. He struggled with the assassin, and put him to death with his own dagger, at the same time calling loudly for assistance. His attendants came at his call, and found him bleeding profusely, and ascertained on inspection that the dagger was poisoned. Means were instantly taken to purify the wound, and an antidote was sent by the Grand Master of the Templars which removed all danger from the effects of the poison.

Camden, in his history, has adopted the more popular, and certainly more beautiful version of this story, which says that the Princess Eleonora, in her love for her gallant husband, sucked the poison from his wound at the risk of her own life: to use the words of old Fuller, "it is a pity so pretty a story should not be true; and that so sovereign a remedy as a woman's tongue, anointed with the virtue of loving affection," should not have performed a good deed.

Edward suspected, and doubtless not without reason, that the assassin was employed by the sultan of Egypt. But it

Mills, in his history, gives the name of this chief as "Al Malek al Dhaker Rok neddin Abulfeth Bibars al Ali al Bundokdari al Salehi."

amounted to suspicion only; and by the sudden death of the assassin the principal clew to the discovery of the truth was lost forever. Edward, on his recovery, prepared to resume the offensive; but the sultan, embarrassed by the defense of interests which, for the time being, he considered of more importance, made offers of peace to the Crusaders. This proof of weakness on the part of the enemy was calculated to render a man of Edward's temperament more anxious to prosecute the war; but he had also other interests to defend. News arrived in Palestine of the death of his father, King Henry III.; and his presence being necessary in England, he agreed to the terms of the sultan. These were, that the Christians should be allowed to retain their possessions in the Holy Land, and that a truce of ten years should be proclaimed. Edward then set sail for England; and thus ended the last Crusade.

The after-fate of the Holy Land may be told in a few words. The Christians, unmindful of their past sufferings and of the jealous neighbors they had to deal with, first broke the truce by plundering some Egyptian traders near Margat. The sultan immediately revenged the outrage by taking possession of Margat, and war once more raged between the nations. Margat made a gallant defense, but no reinforcements arrived from Europe to prevent its fall. Tripoli was the next, and other cities in succession, until at last Acre was the only city of Palestine that remained in possession of the Christians.

The Grand Master of the Templars collected together his small and devoted band, and, with the trifling aid afforded by the king of Cyprus, prepared to defend to the death the last possession of his order. Europe was deaf to his cry for aid, the numbers of the foe were overwhelming, and devoted bravery was of no avail. In that disastrous siege the Christians were all but exterminated. The king of Cyprus fled when he saw that resistance was vain, and the Grand Master fell at the head of his knights, pierced with a hundred wounds. Seven Templars, and as many Hospitallers, alone escaped from the dreadful carnage. The victorious Moslems then set fire to the city, and the rule of the Christians in Palestine was brought to a close forever.

This intelligence spread alarm and sor

row among the clergy of Europe, who endeavored to rouse once more the energy and enthusiasm of the nations in the cause of the Holy Land. But the popular mania had run its career; the spark of zeal had burned its appointed time, and was never again to be re-illumined. Here and there a solitary knight announced his determination to take up arms, and now and then a king gave cold encouragement to the scheme; but it dropped almost as soon as spoken of, to be renewed again, still more feebly, at some longer interval.

Now what was the grand result of all these struggles? Europe expended millions of her treasures, and the blood of two millions of her children; and a handful of quarrelsome knights retained possession of Palestine for about one hundred years! Even had Christendom retained it to this day, the advantage, if confined to that, would have been too dearly purchased. But notwithstanding the fanaticism that originated, and the folly that conducted them, the Crusades were not productive of unmitigated evil. The feudal chiefs became better members of society by coming in contact, in Asia, with a civilization superior to their own; the people secured some small installments of their rights; kings, no longer at war with their nobility,

surface, and it requires a tough traveler to endure the jolts and bruises which are the results of a rapid gallop over these execrable routes-besides the sea-sickness (by an Hibernianism) consequent upon this horrible state of the land. A good supply of provisions is very essential, or the traveler would die of hunger; for at the stations you are only provided with warm water for making tea, and a bench upon which to repose. The wealthier classes understand this so well, that they never travel without a well-furnished bed, cooking utensils, and an ample supply of provisions. All the sufferings and privations to which I allude are unrelieved by any interesting scenery-steppes, marshes, and pine forests, these three words, comprise the whole variety embraced in the long distance between the banks of the Moskova and the shores of the Pruth.

The faithful Russian horses alone excited my interest and admiration, for the speed and safety with which they conducted me through this unvarying dreariness. In this tribute of gratitude to the rapidity and faithfulness of these invaluable animals, I must conscientiously abstain from the slightest compliment to their appearance. A more miserable-looking set of quadrupeds it was never my lot to see; yet one of these nags, scarcely fit, apparently, to drag cabbages to market, will perform daily a journey of between forty and fifty miles, upon an unbroken track, through meadows and woods, leaping inclosures, ditches, and streams, and plunging into ravines from which the only escape is over irregular rocks. The spirit and indomitable perseverance displayed by these grotesque figures would excite the envy of the owners of many a stately steed; they were the only enlivenment of my dreary journey, and in my debt of gratitude to them must be included many a hearty laugh at their expense. They are not only indefatigable, but it is said that they seem perfectly resigned to the severest storms of winter, and show a wonderful sagacity in discerning the road when its traces are almost obliterated by the snows. Notwithstanding all these invaluable qualities, the poor beasts are mercilessly treated, and sustained upon an incredibly small quantity of food. When their tedious day's journey is finished, they refresh themselves with a little snow; the hay, which has protected the feet of the

traveler in the sleigh, serves for their supper, and the open air is their only stable. If the snow falls during the night, in the morning you will frequently see a white mass suddenly start into motion; it proves to be the faithful beast starting upon his day's journey of forty-five miles, though but a night's repose has succeeded a similar distance.

The steppes of Southern Russia extend from the borders of Hungary to the boundaries of China. They form an immense plain, which is covered in spring and autumn with the most luxuriant verdure; in winter huge drifts of snow alternate with the naked soil; while in summer clouds of dust remain suspended in the air, even in the calmest weather, more resembling vapors exhaled from the earth than solid particles of matter, moved by the atmosphere alone. This plain, which is very high, terminates at the Black Sea, in a perpendicular terrace nearly two hundred feet above the level of the water. From its summit, slight natural eminences, scarcely of sufficient size to deserve the name of hills, may be discovered in the remote distance; but artificial eminences are frequently seen, ranging from six to a hundred and fifty feet in height, which, according to some authorities, were originally designed for tombs, telegraphic points, and monuments. This high table-land is deeply furrowed with the streams formed by the melting snows, which are very rapid and powerful in their wandering course. The most marked peculiarity of the scenery, however, is the entire absence of trees from a soil so noted for its fertility and the abundance of its pasturage. You may travel hundreds of miles in a straight line without seeing even a shrub.

The climate of the steppes is always extreme. The cold is severe in winter, and the heat is excessive in summer. The winds sweep over them with such violence that the snow has no time to solidify, and sledding can never be used to such advantage as in Northern Russia. It generally begins to melt in April, but sometimes passes away before the waters are absorbed by the earth. During such seasons, the surface of the prairies is a sea of mud, where neither men nor animals can venture without danger. The change from one season to another is unmarked by great variations of temperature. In no country perhaps does winter offer a more deter