"I will do my best, senhor," answered the Friar; "but at present I know nothing about the circumstance, though I have no doubt that villain Rodrigo, who was hung the other day, had a hand in it. I wish that I had never known that man: `evil communication corrupts good manners;' and I confess that I have done some things I had better have left undone; but I made a vow just now, when I was in the power of those myrmidons of the law, that, if I escaped hanging, I would reform; and I intend to keep to my resolution. I will first endeavour to perform the service you require; and, to my shame I confess it, I know most of the rogues and vagabonds yet unhung in and about Lisbon, who are likely to give me information on the subject; and I then purpose to quit this city of sin and temptation, and return to my convent, and lead a pious life." "I applaud your resolution, my friend," answered Luis; "and I shall, indeed, be grateful if you can afford the assistance I ask; though beware that you are not again captured by the officers of justice: you may not escape so easily." "Trust to my caution," said the Friar. "A rat once escaped from a trap does not put its head in a second time. Now, adeos, senhor!--By the way, if you could lend me a few crowns, I should find them useful, and shall then be able to purchase another friar's gown, under which I shall be safer than in these gay habiliments. There is nothing like the outward garment of sanctity, when a man's character has been slightly blown upon." Luis gave him a few crowns, which he could, however, but ill spare, for which the _ci-devant_ Friar expressed himself very grateful, and then hurried away as fast as he could. In the course of his walk, Luis reached a hill, on which had stood the church of Santa Catarina, now a heap of ruins. A crowd of persons, of all ranks and ages, and of each sex, were assembled there, collected round a tall figure, who had mounted to the summit of a heap of stones, and was haranguing them in a stentorian voice, throwing his arms aloft with the wildest gestures, and rolling his eyes around in a delirium of enthusiasm. Luis inquired of one of the bystanders who the preacher was who was addressing them. "Know you not," exclaimed the man, with a look of disdain at his culpable ignorance, "that he is one of the greatest prophets that has ever lived,--one to whom the gift of tongues has been vouchsafed, as to the apostles of old,--one in whose presence the kingdom of Portugal has been peculiarly blessed, and who, in these times of horror, pours balm into our hearts from his copious fountain of eloquence?--he is the great and pious Father Malagrida." When Luis had asked the question, the preacher had just ceased speaking for a moment, coughing, and blowing his nose, in which the greater part of his congregation imitated him. "Hark!" said the person to whom Luis had spoken; "he again commences."