were entering as fishes have of the sea in which they swim, each went
where destiny seemed to point the way.

On reaching the castle of Wark, Walter Espec felt delighted with the
novelty of the scene, and entered with enthusiasm upon his duties as an
aspirant to the honours of chivalry. Besides learning to carve, to sing,
and to take part in that exciting sport which has been described as 'the
image of war'--such as hawking, and hunting the hare, the deer, the
boar, and the wolf--he ere long signalised himself in the tiltyard by
the facility which he displayed in acquiring skill in arms, and in
chivalrous exercises. Indeed, whether in assailing the pel, or charging
the quintain on horseback, or riding at the ring, or in the combat at
the barriers, Walter had hardly a rival among the youths of his own age;
and, after being advanced to the rank of squire, he crowned his triumphs
in the tiltyard by successfully charging on horseback, _a la_ Coeur de
Lion, with a sword in one hand and a lance in the other.

But still Walter Espec was unhappy; and, even when his dexterity and
prowess in arms moved the envy or admiration of his youthful compeers,
his heart was sad and his smile mournful.

And why was the brave boy so sad?

At the time when Walter was winning such reputation at the castle of
Wark, Jerusalem was sacked by the Karismians. A cry of distress came
from the Christians in the East; and the warriors of the West were
implored to undertake a new crusade, to rescue the Holy Sepulchre and
save the kingdom founded by Godfrey and the Baldwins. The warriors of
the West, however, showed no inclination to leave their homes; and the
pope was lamenting the absence of Christian zeal, when a boy went about
France, singing in his native tongue--

Jesus, Lord, repair our loss,
Restore to us thy blessed cross;

and met with much sympathy from those of his own age. Multitudes of
children crowded round him as their leader, and followed his footsteps
wherever he went. Nothing could restrain their enthusiasm; and,
assembling in crowds in the environs of Paris, they prepared to cross
Burgundy and make for Marseilles.

'And whither are you going, children?' people asked.

'We are going to Jerusalem, to deliver the Holy Sepulchre,' answered
they.

'But how are you to get there?' was the next question.

'Oh,' replied they, 'you seem not to know how it has been prophesied
that this year the drought will be very