creative imagination leaps back over the ages which are gone, repairs the ruins, digs out the moat, suspends the portcullis, stores the dungeon, and peoples the battlemented towers with armed defenders. Again the winding of the bugle echoes over the hills and the valleys, warning the serfs of approaching danger. We see the rush of the frightened peasants in at the massive portals; we hear the clatter of iron hoofs, the defiant challenge pealing from the trumpet: the eye is dazzled with the vision of waving plumes and gilded banners as steel-clad knights sweep by like a whirlwind. Breathless we gaze, in fancy, upon the attack and the defence; listen to the cry of onset, and to the resounding blows upon helmet and cuirass. Heroic courage, chivalric adventure, invest the crumbling stones with life. Such was life in this sad world ten centuries ago. But, through all these tumults, the Church of Christ, with many mingling imperfections, was rising to be the ruling power on earth. In seasons of anarchy, the community is ever ready to cast itself for protection into the arms of dictatorial power. The Church, imperilled, felt its need of a dictator; and the Bishop of Rome, by almost unanimous consent, became its recognized head. The Moslem empire had swept over all the East, trampling Eastern Christians in the dust. The few disciples of Jesus who in those regions were permitted to live were exposed to the most humiliating oppressions and insults. It was in the year 732 that Charles Martel met the Moslem host near Tours, in France, to fight the battle which apparently was to decide the fate of Europe. Christianity and Mohammedanism met on that field in their greatest strength. The battle which ensued was one of the most terrific which earth has ever known. Victory followed the banner of the cross. The annalists of those days declare that over three hundred thousand Moslems bit the dust upon that bloody field: the remnant, in a series of desperate conflicts, were driven pell-mell over the Pyrenees, across the whole breadth of Spain, and over the Straits of Gibraltar into Africa. As we traverse these weary years in their dull monotony of woe, we occasionally come to some event over which we are constrained to pause and ponder. Such an event was the rise of Charlemagne, towards the close of the eighth century. His name has reverberated through the corridors of history until the present day. By his genius, and the power of his armies, he brought two-thirds of all Europe under his sceptre. He created an empire almost rivalling that of the Cæsars. Seated in his palace at Aix la Chapelle, he issued his orders, which scores of nations obeyed. Dukes, princes, counts, became his subordinate officers, whose powers were limited according to his will.