gan to gather to watch the little host embark.

It was a thrilling sight--there in that quiet bay, to see the
Crusaders, trembling with excitement at this new experience--enter the
vessels which were waiting to receive them, while on shore the citizens
of Marseilles were crowding to the front to see the expedition start,
and the gay colours of the flying banners, the bright costumes of the
women, blended with the sunlight in which the fronts of the quaint old
houses were bathed, together with the blue water and the bluer sky,
made a picture both dazzling and beautiful.

When the little army had entered the ships provided for their use, the
solemn ceremonies took place which in those days, when sea voyages were
so perilous, always preceded such an expedition. Then, the religious
exercises being over, all parts of the ships were examined to see that
they were in proper order for such a dangerous voyage, the sailors were
stationed at their respective posts, the anchor chains were loosened,
ready to release the vessels, and the ropes held in hand. There was a
brief silence, then upon the elevated "castle" or stern of each ship,
the young army of Crusaders commenced to chant that dear old hymn "Veni
Creator Spiritus" which the church in all ages has used on solemn
occasions, and as its words floated from one vessel, they were taken up
on another until the air was full of harmony which was wafted back to
the hills and shore, where the seven vessels were being eagerly watched
out of sight. With none of the noise of modern steamers, those seven
vessels glided out of the quiet harbour, in stately procession and
passed beneath the lofty rock of Notre Dame, and the little voyagers
were at sea.

Soon their songs grow faint as they float over the water, then die
away. After that the flags and banners still tell of joy and hope,
until they too are invisible. The day draws to a close, darkness drops
down and envelops the seven ships sailing towards the promised land
with five thousand courageous little pilgrims on board.

But, alas, for hopes and plans, alas, for the holy ideals of that
little band. Not one of them ever realised his ambition!

Two of those ships which sailed so gaily from the harbour of
Marseilles, laden with the fair and hopeful youths of France, whose
mission was to rescue the Holy Tomb from infidel hands, were wrecked in
a wild storm off the Hermit's rock, lying beneath the cliffs of San
Pietro.

There benea