Froissart gives in his delicious obsolete English the history of the trans there was something in the aspect and in | on a window-seat. With its hasped visor it the atmosphere of the hall itself which looks like a small stove, and is huge and made it a fit vestibule to eternity. The hideous enough to have served as a bontransition from the chill, the silence, and net for Gog or Magog. The heraldic orthe gloom of this place, to the warmth naments of this chapel interested Beckand flashing color of the cloisters, was ford more than the wild grace of the leafsomething magical. There are two sets of age. "The garter, the leopards, the fleursthese, the larger, one hundred and eighty de-lis 'from haughty Gallia torn,' the feet square. They reminded us Plantagenet cast of the whole chamber, somewhat of the cloisters of Beconveyed home to my bosom a feeling lem, belonging to the same period so congenial that I could hardly move of luxuriant Gothic architecture, away." but are more elaborate, and have a fresher, newer look, owing to restorations instituted by the King Consort, Dom Fernando. The tracery filling the corridor arches is extremely beautiful; pine cones piled one upon another are represented, and the clumsy curling leaves of the cow-cabbage, with many other natural forms, and the whole gamut of trefoils, quatrefoils, and heraldic and mystical emblems. A fountain in one of the corners is of surpassing loveliness; flamboyant scrolls mingle with the braided stems of waterlilies. The natural forms of the pure Gothic, both the grotesque and the realistic, predominate over religious symbolism and conventional or heraldic ornament. Indeed, the whole botany and natu SANTA CRUZ, COIMBRA. ral history of Gothic architecture might be studied here to the fullest advantage. In the Capella do Fundador rest the remains of Dom João I., who began the building as a token of gratitude for the victory of Aljubarrota, gained August 14, 1385, upon this very ground, and who died, strange to say, upon an anniversary of that day. His tomb and that of Philippa his wife stand in the centre of the chapel, just beneath a beautiful lantern which crowns the dome. The chapel, unlike the main church, is sunny and cheerful; Dom João's twelve-pound iron helmet rests carelessly planting of these British devices to Portugal, and a graphic account of the battle of Aljubarrota. On the death of King Fernando the Handsome, two claimants appeared to the throne of Portugal-his daughter Dona Beatrice, married to the King of Castile, and a natural son. Portugal decided for the son, In not wishing a union with Spain, and João I. was crowned at Coimbra. The King of Castile marched gallantly into the country to maintain his wife's cause, aided by some twelve hundred Frenchmen, soldiers of fortune, who sought an occasion for displaying their prowess. deed, so forward were they that the jealous Castilians hung back, and at the battle of Aljubarrota allowed the impetuous French knights to make the charge unsupported. Dom João had drawn up the Portuguese army before a little church and behind a ditch, over which the French horsemen spurred, only to be taken prisoners as a body. "It can not be denied," says Froissart, "but that the knights and squires from France fought valiantly, but all were slain or taken, for few escaped. At this beginning they [the Portuguese] made a thousand knights and squires prisoners. They did not expect any further battle that day, and entertained their prisoners handsomely, saying to them, 'Do not be cast down; you have valiantly fought, and have been conquered fairly we will behave to you as generously as we would wish to be dealt with ourselves were we in your situation. You must come and recruit yourselves in the good city of Lisbon, where you shall have every comfort.' Six men-at-arms, sent out to reconnoitre, return at full gallop, crying, 'My lords, take care of yourselves, for hitherto we have done nothing; the King of Castile is advancing with his whole army of twenty thousand horse, for not one has remained behind.' On hearing this, they held a short council, and came to a pitiless resolution-that whoever had taken a prisoner should instantly kill him, and that neither noble nor rich nor simple should be exempted..... This was CHARGE OF THE FRENCH KNIGHTS. a very unfortunate event to the prisoners, as well as to the Portuguese; for they put to death this Saturday as many good prisoners as would have been worth to them (in ransom) four hundred thousand francs. The King of Castile, ignorant of the fate of the van, imagining they were only prisoners, was anxious to deliver them..... The Spaniards had a hard afternoon's work, and the fortune of war was greatly against them. The king per a great pity, and six or seven thousand other men: God have mercy on their poor souls!" To Froissart the death of the "six or seven thousand other men" was a little matter in comparison of the five hundred knights. Ten miles from Batalha stands the Cistercian convent of Alcobaca, the largest in the world, and a scarcely less interesting building than the Battle Abbey. It is far older, having been founded by Affonso Henrique in the twelfth century, St. Bernard sending a band of monks for its occupancy. It was at one time one of the richest religious houses that have ever existed. It was a rule that it should never possess one thousand monks, but the number for a long time was nine hundred and sible to destroy it. Inez de Castro and her husband are buried in its church, foot to foot, the king having desired "that at the resurrection the first object that should meet his eyes might be the form of his beloved Inez." Beckford visited the monastery in June, 1794, before its suppression, in company with the priors of Aviz and St. Vincent, and the picture which he gives of its princely hospitality and the worldly lives of the monks is extremely interesting. The description of the kitchen is particularly appetizing: "Through the centre of this immense and nobly groined hall ran a brisk rivulet of the clearest water, flowing through reservoirs containing every sort and size of the finest river fish. On one side loads of game and venison were piled up; on the other, vegetables and fruit in endless variety. Beyond a long line of stoves extended a row of ovens, and close to them hillocks of wheaten flour whiter than snow, rocks of sugar, jars of the purest oil, and pastry in vast abundance, which a numerous tribe of lay brothers and their attendants were rolling out and puffing up into a hundred different shapes, singing all the while as blithely as larks in a corn field." At the supper was served "not only the most excellent usual fare, but rarities and delicacies of past seasons and distant countries; exquisite sausages, potted lampreys, strange messes from the Brazils, and still stranger from China." His bedroom had a "lofty and pleasant ceiling, gilt and frescoed, the floor spread with Persian carpets of finest texture, and the tables in rich velvet petticoats, decked out with superb ewers and basins of chased silver, and towels bordered with point-lace of a curious antique pattern." The entertainment was not confined to feasting and lodging. There was dancing "by a posse of young monks, a decorous and tiresome minuet,' and after this a dramatic representation of the play of Inez de Castro, given by the monks themselves in a small theatre reserved for such amateur performances. "The orchestra consisted of young monks playing upon fiddles, mandolins, and flutes. Lady Inez was played by one of the most ungainly hobbledehoys I ever met. An old monk, too shy to appear on the opera boards, took the part of Echo, perched upon a ladder behind the scenes." The lumbering, rattling diligence conveyed us again from Leiria to the railway station. Later, as we crossed the Spanish frontier, and our farewell glance at Portugal showed us the triple-hilled city of Elvas, with its guardian forts-the eastern gate of the kingdom-we realized that we were leaving many newly made friends -our courteous consul at Lisbon, kindly English ladies, and others, natives of the land-whose thoughtful attentions we should not soon forget. Almost as real to us, pompous old João V.; Manoel, the Solomon of his time; Philippa, who brought to the nation a dowry of English love still unexhausted; the tragedy of Inez de Castro; Affonso I., with his shadowy band of crusaders, driving the infidel from the land. All these, and many more, passed in quick succession before our minds in our last view of this fascinating but neglected corner of Europe. "Vanished are the story's actors; but before my dreamy eye Wave these mingling shapes and figures, like a faded tapestry." WILLIAM HAMILTON MERRITT. I. ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE ERIE CANAL AND THE ST. LAWRENCE SYSTEM OF CANALS. To the sailor who enters the broad estu ary of the St. Lawrence there is revealed but the slightest trace of the hills that rise far to the northward, and give the name "Laurentides" to one of the most remarkable mountain chains upon the Western continent. Skirting the shore of the estuary and the bank of the river at a respectful distance, and occasionally throwing up masses to the southward, these mountains reach the Ottawa River at Lac des Chats. Turning thence toward the south, they cross the St. Lawrence at Gananoque and the Thousand Islands. The northern spur runs from this point to Georgian Bay, and along the northern shore of Lake Superior toward the head-waters of Hudson's Bay. The southern spur is lost in the tops of the Adirondacks, while a small fissure gives space for Lake George, whose upper end is but seven miles from Schroon River, one of the chief tributaries of the Upper Hudson. To the southward of the estuary the mountains of Notre Dame have an elevation of 4000 feet on the peninsula of Gaspé, but their altitude is gradually lessened as they pass to the westward. In the vicinity of Quebec, they turn first to the south and then to the west, and rising to more gigantic heights, they remain forever fixed in the mountains known as the Katahdin, of Maine, the White, of New Hampshire, and the Green, of Vermont. Chafed on the west by the waters of Lake NEW WELLAND CANAL AT THOROLD, NEAR ST. CATHARINE'S, LOOKING NORTH. |