spirit so like that of another “blissful martyr,” Sir Thomas More, that a man going forth to be hanged need trouble himself little about the fashion! The roads were bad beyond any modern idea of badness, and it poured rain for the first nine or ten days. Campion, the least robust of the party, and the most poorly clad, fell ill under such combined discomforts, and while crossing the Apennines had to be lifted into the saddle of one of the very few horses which had been brought along for the sake of the infirm. As soon as he was well enough he resumed his daily habit of saying Mass very early, and of walking on, in the later morning hours, till he was a mile ahead of the rest, to make his meditation, read his Office, and say the Litany of the Saints, before he should be overtaken. He and his comrades planned their spiritual life, day by day, with the most careful regularity. Their talk was always of souls: “the Harvest” was their word for England, or else “the Warfare.” In the chilly spring twilights Campion would push on ahead again, “to make his prayers alone, and utter his zealous affections to his Saviour without being heard or noted.” [Illustration: “P(ater) Edmundus Campianus, Martyr.” p 73.] The route lay through Siena, Florence, Bologna. In the latter city there was a week’s delay, due to an injury to Fr. Parsons’ leg. The band of twelve was entertained by the Cardinal Archbishop of that See, who was the historian of the Council of Trent: Gabriel Paleotto. Like Avellanedo, like many another Italian, Paleotto loved the English. “Were he a born Englishman, he could not love them more,” wrote Agazzario to Allen, at that time when the national temperament was much more expressive and responsive than it is now. At Milan, in the early part of May, the future confessors and martyrs were to find another and a greater, also “much affectioned” towards them, who received them most hospitably, and even asked the English College for other relays of guests in the future. This was the great Archbishop, St. Charles Borromeo. Bishop Goldwell, who had passed through Milan days before the walkers reached it, had been, in 1563, Vicar-General to St. Charles, and would have bespoken his interest in the little party. The reverend host complimented Ralph Sherwin by asking him to deliver a sermon before him, and as for Campion, he was required to discourse daily after dinner. St. Charles himself, all the while, whether vocal or silent, was acting upon the pilgrims as a _Sursum corda_. “Without saying a word, he preached to us sufficiently,” says the ever-appreciative Parsons, “and so we departed from him greatly edified and exceedingly animated.” How charming is the forgotten use of the last word, meaning “souled,” or, as we still say, “heartened,” “inspirited!” Such indeed is the true function of the saints.