“Then there were the great lords, or seigneurs, who divided the country around among themselves and were always quarreling and fighting. It was hereabouts that Charlemagne waged war against the great sorcerer, Maugis, and his brave companions, about whom so much has come down to us in romance and song. Nearby is the plain of Marcel, where three young noblemen, brothers, and their retainers, fought a fratricidal duel with each other to the death, until the ground was red with blood, so that to this day no living thing will grow upon it, and even now, at midnight, by putting the ear to the ground, the peasantry believe that the sounds of battle, the crash of arms, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying may be heard. “It was in the immense forests, part of which now remain, that Charlemagne had his hunting lodge, for he was a lover of the chase. It was nearby that Maugis, the oldest son of Aymon, built the Château de Montfort, and in it, with his doughty brothers, stubbornly resisted the king, until finally driven out by treachery. The fortress was then razed to the ground, so that not a trace of it remains to-day. “Thus the history of Mouzon has been that of war and vicissitude. It was held by the Spanish in the middle ages for a long time, and specimens of their peculiar architecture may yet be seen in these ancient streets. “In 1672 the great abbey was pillaged by the iconoclasts and its vast store of precious manuscripts was destroyed and scattered. I am still unearthing them from all sorts of queer hiding places.” The voice of the schoolmaster now ceased. Its echoes died away in the dim interior. Albert and he arose to visit the organ loft, but I remained seated, musing. The western sun shone softly through the lofty, stained glass windows, shooting subdued colored pencils of light across the worn pavement that finally rested upon and glorified the recumbent figure of a warrior on a tomb near at hand, and then falling at my feet, illumined a half-effaced epitaph: “_Fortiter et recta haec olim_——” The organ commenced a solemn chant and the vast interior, with an indescribably beautiful effect, palpitated with soft harmony. As I sat there, looking upward into the dim obscurity of the beautifully arched roof, the ghosts of centuries seemed to float before me and a feeling of awe possessed all my being. Below my feet rested the ashes of generations of warriors and of saintly men of peace who had stood before that altar and administered the beautiful offices of the church. That floor had been trodden by kings and princes and potentates of high degree, and more than all, by an immeasurable mass of common humanity, that through the centuries had prayed, wept and rejoiced within those silent walls. [Illustration: INTERIOR CATHEDRAL, MOUZON.] Ah! if they could only speak! My reverie was interrupted by the return of my companions; then the professor bade us adieu.