e, and with the fusion of the two races a language grew up which
was the language of united England.

Passing, then, from the quiet death-beds of Alfred and of Bede, we
transfer ourselves to the great hall of the Blackfriars' monastery,
London, on a dull, warm May day in 1378, amid purple robes and gowns of
satin and damask, amid monks and abbots, and bishops and doctors of the
Church, assembled for the trial of John Wycliffe, the parish priest of
Lutterworth.

The great hall, crowded to its heavy oaken doors, witnesses to the
interest that is centred in the trial, and all eyes are fixed on the
pale, stern old man who stands before the dais silently facing his
judges. He is quite alone, and his thoughts go back, with some
bitterness, to his previous trial, when the people crowded the doors
shouting for their favorite, and John of Gaunt and the Lord Marshal of
England were standing by his side. He has learned since then not to put
his trust in princes. The power of his enemies has rapidly grown; even
the young King (Richard II) has been won over to their cause, and
patrons and friends have drawn back from his side, whom the Church has
resolved to crush.

The judges have taken their seats, and the accused stands awaiting the
charges to be read, when suddenly there is a quick cry of terror. A
strange rumbling sound fills the air, and the walls of the judgment hall
are trembling to their base--the monastery and the city of London are
being shaken by an earthquake! Friar and prelate grow pale with
superstitious awe. Twice already has this arraignment of Wycliffe been
strangely interrupted. Are the elements in league with this enemy of the
Church? Shall they give up the trial?

"No!" thunders Archbishop Courtenay, rising in his place. "We shall not
give up the trial. This earthquake but portends the purging of the
kingdom; for as there are in the bowels of the earth noxious vapors
which only by a violent earthquake can be purged away, so are these
evils brought by such men upon this land which only by a very earthquake
can ever be removed. Let the trial go forward!"

What think you, reader, were the evils which this pale ascetic had
wrought, needing a very earthquake to cleanse them from the land? Had he
falsified the divine message to the people in his charge? Was he turning
men's hearts from the worship of God? Was his priestly office disgraced
by carelessness or drunkenness or impurity of life?

Oh, no. Such faults