"'I wish'--said he, suddenly. "'What is your wish?' asked the Duchess. "'I wish that old Stephen Sly was here, and John Naps and Peter Turf, and my wife Joan, and Marian Hacket: wouldn't it be jolly?' "Christopher had never smacked his lips over such wine before, and he drank so deeply that his ideas became mixed again. The feast ended. The ladies sung and the musicians played, but Christopher continued drinking as long as he could hold a beaker. He began to be sleepy, and presently tumbled from his high seat beneath the silken canopy to the floor, 'Where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before.' "And here the reign of Duke Christophero came to a sudden end. The real Duke ordered the attendants to take him away, and to put upon him his 'old leather garments again.' "'When the night is well advanced,' said the Duke, 'take him back to the place where we found him, and there watch his behavior when he awakes.' "Poor Christopher Sly woke in the morning to find his glory gone. The sun shone on the snow-covered gables of Bruges. He looked around him with woe in his face, as he saw the snow beneath him instead of a couch of down, and the sky above him, instead of a silken canopy, sprinkled with gold. He snuffed the frosty air, and, heaving a deep groan, he said, 'And I am old Stephen Sly's son, after all. I have seen a vision. I will go home, and take my scolding from Joan.'" "When we visit Bruges," added Tommy, "I hope we may all visit the resting-place of Duke Christopher Sly." * * * * * Tommy's story, although not of great value to the young travellers, was loudly applauded by the Club. "I have heard," said Wyllys, "that there is a spire in Bruges four hundred and fifty feet high, and a tower that contains forty-eight bells; but I never heard before of Duke Christopher." Ernest Wynn, who spoke French well and took a lively interest in French poetry, sang a Norman seaside song, which is a favorite in some of the coast towns, and is especially employed by the fishermen of Étretat, when a ship goes out to sea in a storm. It began-- Le matin, quand je me réveille, Je vois mon Jésus venir, Il est beau à merveille, C'est lui qui me réveille. C'est Jésus! C'est Jésus! Mon aimable Jésus! Je le vois, mon Jésus, je le vois Porter sa brillante croix, Là haut sur cette montagne: Sa mère l'accompagne. C'est Jésus, C'est Jésus, Mon aimable Jésus. In the morn, when I awake, My Jesus near I see. He is wonderfully beautiful-- It is He that wakens me. It is Jesus, It is Jesus, My lovable Jesus! I see, I see my Jesus Bear over the mountain high His cross of light, accompanied The Holy Mother by. It is Jesus, It is Jesus, My lovable Jesus!