tionately, so that it is said that they shared the same cup, the same plate, and the same bed.

This

Just at this time, Archbishop William of Tyre, came to preach a new Crusade, and the description of the miseries of the Christians in Palestine so affected the two kings and Richard, that they took the Cross, and agreed to lay aside their disputes to unite in the rescue of Jerusalem. However, the concord did not last long, Richard quarrelled with the Count of Toulouse, and a petty war took place, which the kings agreed to conclude by a conference, as usual, under the Elm of Gisors. noble tree had so large a trunk, that the arms of four men could not together encircle it; the branches had, partly by nature, partly by art, been made to bend downwards so as to form a sort of bower, and there were seats on the smooth extent of grass which they shaded. King Henry first arrived at this pleasant spot, and his train stretched themselves on the lawn, rejoicing in being thus sheltered from the burning heat of the summer sun, and when the French came up, laughed at them left beyond the shade to be broiled in the sunbeams. This gave offence; a sharp skirmish took place; the English drew off to Vernon, and Philippe, mindful of the indignation he had felt in his boyhood under that tree, swore that no more parleys should be held under it, and his knights hewed it down with their battle-axes.

The war continued, and Richard fought gallantly on his father's side, but as winter drew on, it was resolved that a meeting should be held at Bonmoulins to re-establish peace. Richard thought this a fit opportunity, in the presence of Alice's brother, for endeavouring to have his rights confirmed, and to clear up the miserable question of his betrothed. In the midst of the meeting he called on his father to promise him in the presence of the King of France, that he would no longer delay his marriage, and declaration as his heir.

Henry prevaricated, and talked of bestowing Alice on John.

This,' cried Richard, 'forces me to believe what I would fain have thought impossible! Comrades, you shall see a sight you did not expect.'

And ungirding his sword, he knelt down before Philippe, and did homage to him, asking his assistance to re-establish his rights. Henry withdrew, followed by a very small number of knights. They mostly held with the young prince, won by his brilliant talents, great courage, and liberal manners, and the king found the griefs renewed that his son Henry had caused him, while he himself, aged by cares rather than years, was less able to cope with them-moreover, Richard was far more formidable than his elder brother; Philippe, a more subtle enemy than Louis; and, above all, the king's own faults were the immediate cause of the rebellion. He took no active measures, he only caused his Castellanes in Normandy to swear that they would yield their keys up to no one but to Prince John, on whom he had concentrated his affections. He awaited the coming of the Cardinal of Anagni, who was sent by the Pope to pacify these crusaders, and remind them of their vows.

Again the parties met, and the legate, with four archbishops, began to speak of peace.

'I consent,' said Philippe, 'for the love of heaven, and of the Holy Sepulchre, to restore to King Henry what I have taken from him, provided he will immediately wed my sister Alice to his son Richard, and secure to him the succession of the crown. I also demand that his son John should go to Palestine with his brother, or he will disturb the peace of the kingdom.'

'That he will!' exclaimed Richard.

'No,' said Henry, this is more than I can grant. Let your sister marry John-let me dispose of my own king

dom.'

'Then the truce is broken,' answered the French king. The Cardinal interfered, threatening to lay France under an interdict, and excommunicate Philippe and Richard if they would not consent to Henry's conditions. Their answers were characteristic.

'I do not fear your curses,' said Philippe. You have no right to pronounce them on the realm of France. Your words smell of English sterlings.'

'I'll kill the madman who dares to excommunicate two royal princes in one breath!' cried Coeur-de-Lion, drawing his sword; but his friends threw themselves between, and the Cardinal escaped, mounted his mule, and rode off in haste.

The French took Mans, and pillaged it cruelly, while Richard looked on in shame and grief at the desolation of his own inheritance. His father, weak and unwell, resolved to make peace, and for the last time appointed a meeting with Philippe on the plain between Tours and Amboise. There it was arranged that Richard should be acknowledged as heir, and Alice put into the hands of the Archbishop, either of Canterbury or Rouen, as he should prefer, until he should return from the crusade. The conference was interrupted by a vivid flash of lightning and a tremendous burst of thunder. To the evil conscience of the elder king it was the voice of avenging heaven; he reeled in his saddle, and his attendants were forced to support him in their arms, and carry him away. He travelled in a litter to Chinon, where his first son had deserted him, and there, while he lay dangerously ill, the treaty was sent to him to receive his signature, and the conditions read over to him. By one of them, those who had engaged in Richard's party were to transfer their allegiance to him.

'Who are they-the ungrateful traitors?' he asked. 'Let me hear their names.'

His secretary began the list, 'John, Count of Mortagne.'

'John!' and the miserable father started up in his bed; 'John! It cannot be true! my heart!

loved son!

my be

He whom I cherished beyond the rest! He for whose sake I have suffered all this! Can he also have deserted me?'

He was told it was too true. Well,' said he, falling back on his bed, and turning his face from the light, 'let the rest go as it will! I care not what becomes of me or of the world!'

He was roused in a few moments by the entrance of Richard, come as a matter of form to ratify the treaty by the kiss of peace. The king, without speaking, gave it with rigid sternness of countenance; but Richard, as he turned away, heard him mutter, 'May I but live to be revenged on thee!' and when he was gone he burst out into such horrible imprecations against his two sons, that the faithful Geoffrey of Lincoln, and the clergy of Canterbury, who attended him, were shocked, and one of the monks reminded him that such hasty words had occasioned the death of Becket. But he gnashed his teeth at them with fury. I have been, and I am your lord, traitors that ye are ! he cried. 'Away with you; I'll have none but trusty ones here.'

The monks left him, but one turning round, said boldly, 'If the life and sufferings of the martyr, Thomas, were acceptable with God, He will do prompt justice on thy body.'

The king threw himself out of bed, with his dagger in his hand, but was carried back again, and continued to rave though growing weaker. In an interval of calm, he was taken into the church, and absolution was pronounced over him, but no persuasion would induce him to revoke his curses against his sons; the delirium returned, and the last words that were heard from his dying lips were, 'Shame! shame on a conquered king! Cursed be the day I was born! Cursed be the sons I leave!'

In his fifty-fifth year he thus miserably expired, and his son Geoffrey with difficulty found anyone to attend to his funeral; the attendants had all fled away with everything valuable that they could lay their hands on. A piece of gold fringe was made to serve for a crown, and an old sceptre and ring were brought from the treasury at Chinon; horses were hired, and the corpse was carried as he had desired, to be interred in the beautiful abbey of Fontevraud. In the midst of the service, a hurried step was heard. It was Richard, who while laughing with his false friend, Philippe, over his ungracious reception at Chinon, had been horror-struck by the news that his father was dead, and that there was no more forgiveness to be looked for.

He had hastily left the French, and now stood beside the coffin, looking at the fine, but worn, and prematurely aged face, which bore the stamp of rage and agony. A drop of blood oozed from the nostril, a token, according to the belief of those times, that the murderer was present. Richard hid his face in his hands in the misery of remorse, and groaned aloud, 'Yes! it was I who killed him.' He threw himself on his knees before the Altar, so remained about as long as it would take to say a Pater,' and then rising up in silence, dashed out of the church. Ten years later, his corpse was, by his own desire, laid in humility at his father's feet.

(To be continued.)

LIFE OF VINCENT DE PAUL.

VINCENT of Paul was born at Pouy, in Languedoc, in the year 1576, four years after the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, while Henry III. was reigning in France, and Elizabeth in England.

His parents were poor, and maintained themselves and their six children by cultivating the small property they