"Under favour, my lord abbot," said Fitzwarren, "the commission is not closed. If there has been a conspiracy, the more it fits us to see to the bottom of it." Catherine now, as well as she could with modesty, related the spirit of what had passed between her and the abbot. The latter denied every thing, and said he would make it appear to be false. Two witnesses he had, at all events; and the poor damsel, who was thus spirited to do him an injury, had none. The woman, a person of venerable age, was not present; but he could appeal at once to Father Thomas, who would swear, on the holy scriptures, that every syllable of what had been uttered was false. "There needeth not the scripture," said the father, composedly. "How so?" asked the commissioner. "Because," replied Father Thomas, with a face of as imperturbable impudence as ever fell to the lot of friar, "every syllable of what the lady uttered is true. My lord commissioner," he added, "I crave your lordship's protection, having divers matters to disclose of import to the king's highness, and being encouraged to hope for pardon thereby, as well as to be the poor means of doing his highness some service." "Is it so?" cried Fitzwarren: "then much travail will be spared my commission. What, I warrant my cunning secretary hath been speaking with you?" He hath, my lord, with many grave arguments; and I do find that his grace, whom God preserve, being head of the church as well as state, it would be a marvellous insolent disobedience in a poor friar to set the will and pleasure of the inferior master above that of the mightier." 66 as The abbot, in a paroxysm of rage, seemed about to inflict personal chastisement on Father Thomas, when his arm was stayed by the strong hand of Fitzwarren. "There needeth not farther scandal," said his lordship. "I have friends at court," cried the abbot, well as the rude lords that come hither to insult the church; and I shall refer my cause to them."- "My lord," said Fitzwarren, "there is a little finger at court that hath greater might than the bodies of all your friends put together; and on that finger there goeth a signet; and that signet hath visited a paper which is in my pocket, touching certain pains and penalties to be inflicted on all such as do not hear out my process, or are bold enough to withstand it. And, my lord, I crave your patience a little longer, for I have somewhat farther to determine." The commissioner then turned to Father Edmund, who stood aloof in the strangest and most miserable of all situations for a lover, for he neither dared to support, look at, or think of a loving mistress, who had just declared herself. "My good father," said Fitzwarren, with a tone in which hope and fear were mingled, may I crave your age?" "I shall surprise you, my lord," answered Father Edmund, willing to give way to any other thought: "sorrow and disappointment have stood me in stead of many years. I have not yet told four-and-twenty." "Then, sir," returned the commissioner, I have the joy of telling you, that you are no longer Father Edmund of the Abbey of St. Mary Ottery, but Francis Periam, esquire, of Kirton. His grace's council determined but two days ago, that all monks under that age should be freed from their vows. You shall come and find your speech again in my house; and" (turning to poor overwhelmed Catherine, whose strong hold on the other's feelings he saw in his face)" if our rhetoric can prevail with this lady to go with us, my mother shall welcome her also. My lord abbot, I now leave you to ponder over your memorial, as I will go and prepare; and God send your lordship a good deliverance !" "I desire no better one than the deliverance from your lordship's presence," said the abbot. "The desire is natural," returned Fitzwarren. "For the first, and I hope for the last time, my lord Abbot of St. Mary Ottery and the lord Fitzwarren are of one accord." The abbot at the head of his monks left the room with what stateliness he might. Catherine was taken to the house of her new friend, which appeared to her a paradise; and in a month from this period, while the lesser monasteries were being dissolved in all quarters, and the greater ones were trembling to their foundations, she that had come to St. Mary Ottery as a despairing boy, rode back to Kirton a beloved and honoured bride. GREEK FUNERAL CHANT.* A WAIL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young! And that I die not, seeing Death on thy pale glorious brow? " I look upon thee, thou that wert of all most fair and brave! eye And fast is bound the springing step, that seem'd on breezes borne, When to thy couch I came and said- Wake, hunter, wake! 'tis morn!' -Yet lovely art thou still, my flower! untouch'd by slow decay; And I, the wither'd stem, remain !-I would that Grief might slay! "Oh! ever when I met thy look, I knew that this would be! -A voice came whispering to my soul, and told me thou must die! Les Chants funèbres par lesquels on déplore, en Grèce, la mort de ses proches, prennent le nom particulier de Myriologia, comme qui dirait, Discours de lamentation, complaintes.-A les plaintes spontanées et simultanées autour du Mort, succèdent bientôt des lamentations d'une autre espèce: ce sont les Myriologues. Ordinairement c'est la plus proche parente qui prononce le sien la premiere: après elle, les autres parentes, les amies, les simples voisines, toutes celles des femmes présentes qui peuvent payer au défunt ce tribut d'affection.-Les Myriologues sont toujours composés et chantés par les femmes. Ces sortes d'improvisations sont toujours en vers, et toujours chantées." VOL. XIII. NO. LI. Fauriel's Chants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne. 2 c That thou must die, my fearless one! when swords were flashing red— A wail was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the And stood as woman oft hath stood, where faithful hearts are proved! "But where was I when thou didst fall beneath the fatal sword? Or praying to the Saints for thee, before the holy shrine? The blue skies fade with all their lights-they fade, since thou art gone! A wail was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young! I see thy bounding step no more-my brother and my friend! "I come with flowers--for Spring is come-Ianthis! art thou here? I bring the garlands she hath brought-I cast them on thy bier! Thou shouldst be crown'd with victory's crown-but oh! more meet they seem, The first faint violets of the wood, and lilies of the stream! F. H. LETTERS FROM THE EAST.-NO XIV. Jerusalem. In an apartment a little on the left of the rotunda, and paved with marble, is shewn the spot where Christ appeared to Mary in the garden. Near this begins the ascent to Calvary: it consists of eighteen very lofty stone steps; you then find yourself on a floor of beautifully variegated marble, in the midst of which are three or four slender white pillars of the same material, which support the roof, and separate the Greek division of the spot from that appropriated to the Catholics: these pillars are partly shrouded by rich silk hangings. At the end stand two small and elegant altars; over that of the Catholics is a painting of the crucifixion, and over the Greek is one of the taking down the body from the cross. A number of silver lamps are constantly burning, and throw a rich and softened light over the whole of this striking scene. The street leading to Calvary has a long and gradual ascent, the elevation of the stone steps is above twenty feet, and if it is considered that the summit has been removed to make room for the sacred church, the ancient hill, though low, was sufficiently conspicuous. The very spot where the cross was fixed is shewn; it is a hole in the rock, surrounded by a silver rim; and each pilgrim prostrates himself, and kisses it with the greatest devotion. Its identity is probably as strong as that of the cross and crown of thorns found a few feet below the surface; but where is the scene around or within the city, however sacred, that is not defaced by the sad inventions of the fathers?-Having resolved to pass the night in the church, we took possession for a few hours of a small apartment adjoining the gallery that overlooked the crowded area beneath. As it drew near midnight, we ascended again to the summit of Calvary. The pilgrims one after another had dropped off, till at last all had departed. No footstep broke on the deep silence of the scene. At intervals, from the Catholic chapel below, was heard the melody of the organ, mingled with the solemn chanting of the priests, who sung of the death and sufferings of the Redeemer. This service, pausing at times, and again rising slowly on the ear, had an effect inexpressibly fine. The hour, the stillness, the softened light and sound, above all, the belief of being where He who "so loved us" poured out his life, affected the heart and the imagination in a manner difficult to be described. Hour after hour fled away fast, and we descended to the chamber of the sepulchre. How vivid the midnight lights streamed on every part; the priest had quitted his charge, and the lately crowded scene was now lonely. This was the moment, above all others, to bend over the spot, where "the sting of death and the terrors of the grave" were taken away for ever. Soon after daylight the pilgrims began to return, and continued their visits till the ensuing night. The fathers lamented deeply the breaking out of the Greek revolution, and the internal war between the two Pachas, which have combined to diminish the number of pilgrims to less than one-fourth part of what it formerly was, as the journey is become too dangerous. Three or four thousand are computed to every year, who afford a productive revenue to the different arrive convents. But this is in a great measure eaten up by the heavy tax which the different orders are obliged to pay the Turks. One day we were favoured with an audience of the Armenian patriarch. He was seated on a low divan, in an elegant apartment; and his aspect was noble and venerable. This fine old man is second only in rank to the great patriarch who resides in Persia; he said but little, and that through his interpreter; coffee and sweetmeats were handed round. A grand procession of the three different orders took place one evening in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. It was curious to observe the spirit of vanity and rivalry displayed on this occasion. First marched the Armenians nine times slowly round the tomb clad in the most splendid dresses; the robe and tiara of the patriarch was literally loaded with jewels. They bore a number of silk flags, of various colours, with scenes from the Scripture represented on them; and they sung as they moved along, with a consciousness that they outvied their brethren in splendor; but the abominable nasal sounds they produced did not add to its effect. The Greeks succeeded, with far less magnificence, and little better singing; but the noble and intelligent expression of countenance of their dignified ecclesiastics struck us extremely; they carried bunches of sacred flowers in their hands, which the poor pilgrims grasped at most eagerly, to carry, even when withered, to their distant homes. The fine and solemn chanting of the Franciscans, who came last, completely redeemed their dirty habits, coarse ropes, and shaven crowns. One day as Mr. G. was walking without the city, he perceived my old fellow-traveller in Egypt, Mr. W. who had come to reclaim his countrymen, the Jews, sitting forlorn at the gate of Bethlehem; but he sprang up with rapture as soon as he saw him, for his spirit was sad and desolate, he said, to find himself in his own fallen country, and surrounded by strangers. He was so fortunate, by means of an excellent letter of introduction, as to find a home in the Armenian convent, where he had a luxurious apartment, and the society of some intelligent fathers. He was an excellent linguist, but had been nearly starved by the monks of Antoura, a convent on Mount Lebanon, where he went to perfect himself in the Arabic, and who allowed him only a couple of eggs a day, with bread, to subsist on. He had an audience in a few days of the Turkish governor, who received kindly from him a Persian copy of the New Testament. It will be found, that the Turks in general possess far more tolerance of opinion and practice than we give them credit for. I have heard many of them observe that good men of all religions will be received into Paradise; and in all the cities of their dominions are to be found churches and convents of every Christian sect, enjoying perfect freedom of worship, and protection from insult in their rites and ceremonies. But the conduct of the Christians of Jerusalem to each other, and the bitter hatred they mutually manifest, are sufficient to give the Moslemen a contemptible opinion of Christianity. About five years ago a furious scuffle took place around the Holy Sepulchre; the time for the Catholic priest's stay in the tomb being expired, the Greek brother came to occupy his place, as they take this duty in turn. The Catholic refused to quit it, when a warm altercation ensued, and the Franciscan struck the other a vio |