e victories, the end of this Crusade was,
it took to "besieging Acre," and in reality lay perishing as of murrain
on the beach at Acre, without shelter, without medicine, without food.
Not even Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and his best prowess and help, could
avert such issue from it.

Richard's Crusade fell in with the fag-end of Barbarossa's; and it
was Richard chiefly that managed to take Acre;--at least so Richard
flattered himself, when he pulled poor Leopold of Austria's standard
from the towers, and trailed it through the gutters: "Your standard? YOU
have taken Acre?" Which turned out ill for Richard afterwards. And
Duke Leopold has a bad name among us in consequence; much worse than he
deserves. Leopold had stuff in him too. He died, for example, in this
manner: falling with his horse, I think in some siege or other, he
had got his leg hurt; which hindered him in fighting. Leg could not be
cured: "Cut it off, then!" said Leopold. This also the leech could not
do; durst not, and would not; so that Leopold was come quite to a halt.
Leopold ordered out two squires; put his thigh upon a block the sharp
edge of an axe at the right point across his thigh: "Squire first, hold
you that axe; steady! Squire second, smite you on it with forge-hammer,
with all your strength, heavy enough!" Squire second struck, heavy
enough, and the leg flew off; but Leopold took inflammation, died in a
day or two, as the leech had predicted. That is a fact to be found in
current authors (quite exact or not quite), that surgical operation:
[Mentzel, _Geschichte der Deutschen_ (Stuttgard and Tubingen, 1837), p.
309.] such a man cannot have his flag trailed through the gutters by
any Coeur-de-Lion.--But we return to the beach at Acre, and the poor
Crusaders, dying as of murrain there. It is the year 1190, Acre not yet
taken, nor these quarrels got to a height.

"The very Templars, Hospitallers, neglect us," murmured the dying
Germans; "they have perhaps enough to do, and more than enough, with
their own countrymen, whose speech is intelligible to them? For us, it
would appear, there is no help!" Not altogether none. A company of pious
souls--compassionate Lubeck ship-captains diligently forwarding it, and
one Walpot von Bassenheim, a citizen of Bremen, taking the lead--formed
themselves into a union for succor of the sick and dying; "set up canvas
tents," medicinal assuagements, from the Lubeck ship-stores; and did
what utmost was in them, silentl