and from one who should have set an example of repentance, I would here, with bell, book, and candle, put out your names for ever, from the book of life. Yes, even here!" exclaimed he, uplifting the bell in one hand, and the book in the other, while the Acolyte held high the lighted taper,-" even here, would I ring out your stiff-necked rebellion, and peal aloud your sins, and swear away your portion in the book of life, and blow out your hope for ever from heaven by a breath, in this holy taper's flame. Never again should the Ostiary admit you within the doors of the house of God, or a bell ring, that prayers might be offered up for your lost souls; not all the wealth of the East expended for masses, could then save ye from the eternal flames. Never more should ye hear the holy words drop like oil from the mouth of the Lector, or behold the Deacon lay the oblation on the altar, or feel your souls bowed down beneath the eloquence of the Mass-priest, while he dealt forth portions of the food which perisheth not. Your hope in God would then be for ever destroyed, and your claim cut off to the inheritance of heaven. Repent, then, in sackcloth and ashes, salute not one another in the street, refrain from

sleeping in soft beds, from polling your heads or beards, or paring your nails, or eating flesh; let your food be bread, water, and vegetables.

"Twenty paternosters shall ye repeat daily, and each pay a groat, to be expended in masses before the altar of Newstead Priory, for disobeying this day the mandate of the holy successor of St. Peter. From this time, until it shall please his holiness to take off this curse from the land, ye are debarred from all public worship-even the mass, which is offered for your sins, ye shall not witness. The doors of the church are closed on all but the priests. Your dead shall no longer be interred within consecrated ground, but in high roads and ditches, and waste lands, where even the feet of swine shall trample upon their graves. Of no religious rite or solemn ceremony shall ye partake, unless at the hour of death, or the baptism of infants. Even your marriages shall henceforth be holden in the church-yards, and the hands of the bride and bridegroom be united while standing upon the graves of their kindred. Not a bell shall sound either for the living or the dead, but they shall be removed from their high places, and laid upon the

ground, together with the sacred vessels of worship. The relics and images of the saints shall also be strewn on the floor of the church, and covered from the sight of even the priests. The altars shall be despoiled of their ornaments. Ye shall have no saints to invoke, no crosses to prostrate yourselves before, for the very air ye now breathe is cursed, and your own souls are tottering on the verge of perdition. Step aside, henceforth, but one jot from the path I have now marked out before you, and your doom will be the bottomless abyss, the unfathomable regions of fire and despair and suffocating darkness. Obey them, and we will yet intercede with the saints in your behalf."

When the cardinal had ceased, nearly the whole of the assembled crowd fell prostrate on their knees around the rude cross, and some betook themselves to their prayers, while others bent their heads upon their bosoms, or, with folded hands, cast supplicating looks towards the proud-glancing prelate. Rob-of-the-Raven's-Roost remained standing, together with a few of the outlaws, who were too proud to bend before this haughty representative of the pope. At the bidding of the cardinal (and in full

opposition to the tenor of the interdict) the friars struck up one of their solemn anthems, and deep and impressive was the loud swell of their voices, stealing along the silence of a calm blue summer's sky.

Although the cardinal scowled fiercely upon the few daring auditors, who refused either to bend the knee, or show any sign of repentance, yet, as the loud anthem arose an hundredvoiced, his dark eyes kindled with enthusiasm, and he threw his arm aloft, pointing to the ancient cross which towered above him. One might have deemed, from the animation of his countenance, that his mind had pierced into the future, in which he beheld the unbending monarch of England humiliated, and compelled to kneel for forgiveness at the foot of the pope, whose power he then scoffed at and defied.

But the time had not yet arrived for the fulfilment of that dream, the realization of which, was not far distant, when the proud king held his crown and kingdom as the vassal of Rome. Nor had the anthem closed before King John himself, followed by De Marchmont, and several of his favourites, entered the

market-place, and beheld the triumph which the daring prelate had achieved.

Never did his royal father, Henry II., when closest beset, and baffled by that ambitious, and unbending churchman, Thomas à Becket, burst forth in a more terrible fit of rage; than that which convulsed the countenance of the king, when he beheld this unexpected triumph of the cardinal's. His face grew crimson with rage, and his brow dark as a thunder-cloud. He spoke not, but unsheathing his sword with the rapidity of lightning, he dashed the spurs deep into the flanks of his high-mettled charger, and without regarding the kneeling multitude, burst through their thick ranks, and aimed a blow at the prelate's head. Nor would that undaunted champion of Rome have again thrown down the terrible gauntlet of his church, had not the prior, caught the uplifted arm of the enraged monarch, and thereby staid the stroke.

"Wouldst thou strike down the servant of God?" said the prior, "when he is obeying the representative of Christ, and is sheltered by the holy symbol of our salvation? The very fiends would tremble to behold such an act."

"I would have the blood of St. Peter him