There was a certain German, who with his wife and son went on a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella. Having come as far as Torlosa, they lodged at an inn there; and the host had a fair daughter, who, looking on the son of the pilgrim, a handsome and a graceful youth, became deeply enamoured; but he, being virtuous, and, moreover, on his way to a holy shrine, refused to listen to her allurements. Then she thought how she might be avenged for this slight put upon her charms, and hid in his wallet her father’s silver drinking-cup. The next morning, no sooner were they departed, than the host, discovering his loss, pursued them, accused them before the judge, and the cup being found in the young man’s wallet, he was condemned to be hung, and all they possessed was confiscated to the host. Then the afflicted parents pursued their way lamenting, and made their prayer and their complaint before the altar of the blessed Saint Jago; and thirty-six days afterwards as they returned by the spot where their son hung on the gibbet, they stood beneath it, weeping and lamenting bitterly. Then the son spoke and said, ‘O my mother! O my father! do not lament for me, for I have never been in better cheer; the blessed apostle James is at my side, sustaining me and filling me with celestial comfort and joy!’ The parents, being astonished, hastened to the judge, who at that moment was seated at table, and the mother called out, ‘Our son lives!’ The judge mocked at them: ‘What sayest thou, good woman? thou art beside thyself! If thy son liveth, so do those fowls in my dish.’ And lo! scarcely had he uttered the words, when the fowls (being a cock and a hen) rose up full-feathered in the dish, and the cock began to crow, to the great admiration of the judge and his attendants.[212] Then the judge rose up from table hastily, and called together the priests and the lawyers, and they went in procession to the gibbet, took down the young man, and restored him to his parents; and the miraculous cock and hen were placed under the protection of the Church, where they and their posterity long flourished in testimony of this stupendous miracle. There are many other legends of St. James; the Spanish chroniclers in prose and verse abound in such; but, in general, they are not merely incredible, but puerile and unpoetical; and I have here confined myself to those which I know to have been treated in Art.