Sovereignty of Dombes, and to other honours, while the Dukedom of Orleans, under the Salic law, reverted to the crown. But it must be remembered that, from the death of Hugh Capet to that of Louis XVI., not a drop of French blood had been shed in the quarrel of a disputed succession. It may be said that the claim of Henry V. of England to the crown was а case of disputed succession. It is true that the advocates of the English king objected to the Salic law. But

succeed to his dominions. If Mary Tudor had a claim, her heir was Mary, Queen of Scots. If Elizabeth had a claim, Mary Tudor was a usurper. Again we must remember how the Spanish peninsula had been deluged with blood in the present century, in consequence of the illegal attempts of two sovereigns to dispossess the male heir for the benefit of their own daughters; a procedure condemned by every rule of right and sense of justice. The fact is that a bad law, if understood and observed, is better than a scramble. The claims to succession in England, since the death of Henry I., and in Spain and Portugal since the attempt to abolish the Salic law, have been a succession of scrambles; and the adoption of either the Salic law, the law of Mohammedan descent, or borough English itself, if honestly and invariably carried out, would probably have secured the peace of the country as completely as would the observance of the true law of heraldic representation.

NOTE.-By the courtesy of the publishers, Messrs. Daldy, Isbister & Co., we reproduce three of the woodcuts of Mr. Conder's book, "The Child's History of Jerusalem," in illustration of the preceding article. The initial letter gives a portrait of Georges Reignier de Guerchy, Grand Prior of France in 1604, from a portrait by Rubens. He wears the costume of his rank. The second cut contains the arms of the Christian Kings of Jerusalem. In the centre is the gold cross of Jerusalem on its silver ground, under the helmet worn by King Reignier the Good, of the third line of the House of Anjou. On the pennons are the arms of (on the left hand) 1. Godfrey of Bouillon, d. 1100; 2. Baldwin, his brother, d. 1118; 3. Baldwin II. (du Bourg), d. 1131; 4. Foulques, Comte d'Anjou, d. 1142; (on the right hand) 5. Guillaume de Montferrat; 6. Gui de Lusignan, d. 1192. 7. Henri de Blois, Count Palatine of Champagne, d. 1197; 8. Jean de Brienne, Comte d'Eu; and 9. the Emperor Frederic II., who successively held the title of King of Jerusalem. The crosses below are those of the Knights Hospitallers, or Knights of St. John, and the Knights Templars. The arms represented on the last cut are those of the Count of Toulouse, of Adhemar, Bishop of Puy, and of Sir Pierre Reignier, the first Christian knight killed in the first Crusade.

LAYS OF THE SAINTLY.

BY THE LONDON HERMIT.

NO. 17.-SISTER BEATRICE.

This is the metre Columbian. The soft-flowing trochees and dactyls,
Blended with fragments spondaic, and here and there an iambus,
Syllables often sixteen, or more or less, as it happens,

Difficult always to scan, and depending greatly on accent,
Being a close imitation, in English, of Latin hexameters-

Fluent in sound, and avoiding the stiffness of commoner blank verse,
Having the grandeur and flow of America's mountains and rivers,
Such as no bard could achieve in a mean little island like England :
Oft, at the end of a line, the sentence dividing abruptly

Breaks, and in accents mellifluous follows the thoughts of the author.

I.

In the old miracle days, in Rome the abode of the saintly,

To and fro in a room of her sacred conventual dwelling,

Clad in garments of serge, with a veil in the style of her Order, Mass-book and rosary, too, and a bunch of keys at her girdle, Walk'd, with a pensive air, Beatrice, the Carmelite sister. Fair of aspect was she, but a trifle vivacious and worldly, And not altogether cut out for a life of devout contemplation. More of freedom already had she than the rest of the sisters, For hers was the duty to ope the gates of the convent, and take in Messages, parcels, et cetera, from those that came to the wicket. Ever and often she paused to gaze at the face of Our Lady, Limned in a picture above by some old pre-Raphaelite master; Then would she say to herself (because there was none else to talk to)— "Why should I thus be inmured, when people outside are enjoying Thousands of sights and of scenes, while I'm not allowed to behold them, Thousands of joys and of changes, while I am joyless and changeless? No; I can stand it no longer. I'll hasten away from the convent.

Now is the time, for all's quiet; there's no one to see or to catch me." So resolving at length, she took off her habit monastic,

And promptly arrays herself in smuggled secular garments;

Then on the kneeling-desk she laid down the keys, as a safe place Where some one or other, or somebody else, would certainly find them. "Take thou charge of these keys, blest Mother," then murmurd Beatrice, "And guard all the nuns in this holy but insupportable building."

And as she spoke these words, the eyes of the picture were fastened
With mournful expression upon her, and tears could be seen on the

canvass :

Little she heeded, however, her thoughts had played truant before her.
Then stole she out of the portal, and never once looking behind her,
Wrapped in an ample cloak, and further concealed by the darkness,
Out through the streets of the city Beatrice quickly skedaddled.

II.

Out in the world went Beatrice, her cell was left dark and deserted ;
Scarce had she gone when, lo! with wonderment be it related,
Down from her canvass and frame there stepp'd the blessed Madonna,
Took up the keys and the raiment Beatrice had quitted, and wore them,
Also assuming the face and the figure of her who was absent;
Became in appearance a nun, so that none could discover the difference,
Save that the sisters agreed that the portress, Beatrice, was growing
Better and better, as one who aspired to canonisation,

Daily abounding in grace, a pattern to all in the convent;

Till it would not have surprised them to see a celestial halo
Gather around her head, and pinions sprout out from her shoulders,
That, when too good for this world, she might fly away to a better.
Her post was below her deserts, and so by promotion they made her
Mistress of all the novices seeking religious instruction.

Such was her great success in that tender and beautiful office,

Her pupils all bloomed into saints-and some of the very first water.

III.

Many a day had pass'd since Beatrice escaped from the convent;
Much had she seen of the world, and its wickedness greatly distress'd her;
Oft she repented her act, and long'd to return, yet she dared not,
Oft was determined to go, still she "stood on the order of going."
Thus at last it occurr'd that her convent's secular agent
Entered one day in the house where the truant sister was staying,

But, changed as she was in appearance, he did not know her from Adam,
Whilst he in his clerical garb was to her a familiar figure.

"Now I shall learn," thought she, "what they say of my flight and my

absence."

And so she eagerly asked of the nuns, and of Sister Beatrice,

As of a friend she had known when living near to the convent.

Truly," the factor replied, "she is still the pride of our sisters, Favourite too of the Abbess, and worthy of all our affection; Would there were more of her kind in some houses monastic I know of." Puzzled, and rather distress'd, then answered the truant réligieuse, "She whom I speak of, alas! was less of a saint than a sinner;

She fled from the veil and the cell, so surely you speak of another?" "Not in the least, my child," the secular agent responded,

"Sister Beatrice, the saint-like, did not run away from the cloister;

Mistress is she of the novices. Why should she go? Stuff and nonsense!” "What can it mean?" thought Beatrice, "and who is my double and namesake?"

So when the agent was gone, resolved she would settle the question,
Off to the convent she went, and knocked at the portal familiar,
Ask'd for the Sister Beatrice, was shewn to the parlour and found a
Counterpart of herself, as she was in her days of seclusion.

Down on her knees went Beatrice-the why and the wherefore she knew not
"Welcome, my daughter, again," said her double, the blessed Madonna,
"Now I restore you your keys, your robe, and your other belongings,
Adding the excellent name and promotion I've won in your likeness;
Be you a nun as before, but more pious; farewell; take my blessing."
Speaking, she melted away in the holy pre-Raphaelite picture.
Again was Beatrice "herself," like Richard the Third, à la Shakespeare,
Growing in grace from that day, and winning the glory of saintship;
While each of the pupils she taught went to heaven as surely as she did.