Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, "This is my own, my native land!" If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concenter'd all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung. WALTER SCOTT: "LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL." [Illustration] THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE. A STRANGE PIECE OF HISTORY. So great was the religious zeal during this period that even the children were also enlisted in the cause. At the close of the Fifth Crusade, these little ones were taught that the warriors had failed because of their sins and that it now remained for the weak and innocent to make an effort. In 1212 not less than 50000 children in France and Germany, braving the anger of parents, gathered together in cities and countries, singing these words; "Lord Jesus, restore to us your holy cross." They were led by two boys, Stephen of Colyes, and Nicholas of Hungary, though it is probable that older leaders were also present. When they were asked where they were going, or what they intended to do, they replied, "We are going to Jerusalem to deliver the Sepulchre of our Saviour." A great portion of them tried to cross the Alps near Mt. Cenis and nearly all perished. Others took another route, and crossing, at an easier pass, arrived in Italy, while most who came from France went to Marseilles. They had been made to believe that the year 1213 would be very dry and that the heat of the sun would be so great as to dry up the waters of the sea; thus an easy road for pilgrims would be opened across the bed of the Mediterranean sea to Jerusalem. Finding no dry sea, seven vessels were provided and those who embarked were either ship-wrecked or taken prisoners by the Saracens. Many were lost in the forests then so abundant and large, others perished with heat, hunger, thirst, and fatigue,--and of the fifty thousand who started, few, if any, ever reached home or trod the sands of Palestine. The narrative of the children's crusade seems too strange to be true, but the facts are stated by the most truthful authors and are worthy of being believed. [Illustration] THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. ROSE HARTWICK THORPE. "My Fred! I can't understand it," And his voice, it quivered with pain, While the tears kept slowly dropping On his trembling hands like rain: "For my Fred was so brave and loyal, So true; but my eyes are dim, And I cannot read the letter-- The last that I shall get from him. Please read it, sir, while I listen-- In fancy I see him--dead: My boy, shot down like a traitor, My noble, my brave boy, Fred!"