nothing of his intentions. When she was seated at the table whereon the new books were spread, Mr. Tolman stepped outside of the shop door to watch for Glascow's approach. He soon appeared. "Walk right in," said Mr. Tolman. "She's in the back room looking over books. I'll wait here and keep out customers as far as possible. It's pleasant, and I want a little fresh air. I'll give you twenty minutes." the happy couple should not be married very soon, and the young lady was charmed to give up her position as teacher and governess in a family, and come and take charge of that delightful little store and that cunning little house, with almost everything in it that they wanted. One thing in the establishment Mr. Tolman refused to sell. That was Dormstock's great work. He made the couple a present of the volume, and between two of the earlier pages he placed a bank-note, which in value was very much more than that of the ordinary wedding gift. 66 Glascow was pale, but he went in without a word; and Mr. Tolman, with his hands under his coat tail, and his feet rather far apart, established a blockade And what are you going to do?" they on the door-step. He stood there for asked of him, when all these things were some time looking at the people outside, settled. And then he told them how he and wondering what the people inside was going back to his business in the were doing. The little girl who had bor- neighboring city, and he told them what rowed the milk of him, and who had nev-it was, and how he had come to manage er returned it, was about to pass the door, a circulating library. They did not think but seeing him standing there, she crossed him crazy. People who studied the logaover to the other side of the street. But rithms of the diapason would not be apt he did not notice her. He was wonder- to think a man crazy for such a little thing ing if it was time to go in. A boy came as that. up to the door, and wanted to know if he kept Easter-eggs. Mr. Tolman was happy to say he did not. When he had allowed the night druggist a very liberal twenty minutes, he went in. As he entered the shop door, giving the bell a very decided ring as he did so, P. Glascow came down the two steps that led from the inner room. His face showed that it was all right with him. When Mr. Tolman returned to the establishment of Pusey and Co., he found everything going on very satisfactorily. "You look ten years younger, sir," said Mr. Canterfield. "You must have had a very pleasant time. I did not think there was enough to interest you in for so long a time." "Interest me!" exclaimed Mr. Tolman. Why, objects of interest crowded on me. I never had a more enjoyable holiday in my life." When he went home that evening (and he found himself quite willing to go), he tore up the will he had made. He now felt that there was no necessity for proving his sanity. A ND what is a Martin summer? It is far off is a church which was originally what, dear reader, you would call an called S. Martinus de Bello, the TouranIndian summer. As that was said by the geois having borne their saint's body with aboriginal American to be the smile of their army when they defeated the Northe Great Spirit, this was said by the ori-mans on that spot in 843. In the course ginal Christian of Touraine to be the smile of St. Martin. One can not pass much time in this sweet mystical region without recognizing that in the course of its long history it has gradually and unconsciously evolved a hierarchy and a diabolarchy of its own. It goes without saying that neither their saints nor their demons ever really existed in their conventionalized forms. Neither Hugo, on the one hand, nor Martin, on the other, would recognize the portrait he has grown into could he re-appear. The Martin mythology, however, the most interesting in France, lies no doubt in the direction of the facts in the man's lifewhoever he was. gar. It must have been a hard age when so much could have been made of Martin's dividing his cloak with a shivering begIt may, indeed, have been that few Christians then had any cloaks to divide. My impression is that the story rather hints at the conversion of the soldier into a saint, and his turning to the work of saving men the sword previously wielded for their destruction. As the legend of Hubert-on whom the stag he was hunting turned, and showed the crucifix between its antlers-means the conversion of the mediaval wild huntsmen, so this story of Martin, with the legends of his peacefulness, seem to bear us back to a period when the Church represented the trampled people, and had not yet unsheathed the sword nor gained the throne. Martin of Tours stood in the dawn of the Church's great victory over the North, but he stands white against a sanguinary background-the soldier of Constantine I. who last drew his sword to divide his cloak with a beggar, and then cast that sword away forever. There have been significant transformations of names at Tours. One of the oldest churches was originally called Notre Dame de Pauvre, but it is now Notre Dame de Riche; and in it stands a figure of St. Martin wearing rich habiliments in place of those garments which were so poor that the ecclesiastics did not wish to elect him bishop because of them. Not of time de bello was changed to le bel, and finally into le beau. This transformation of a Martin of War into a Martin the Beautiful may be connected with an earlier legend concerning the neighboring town of Amboise. This is to the effect that where Amboise castle stands on its high rock, Cæsar, returning from his conquest of Bourges, built a tower, and set upon it a statue of the war-god, Mars. The tower and statue remained there until St. Martin went to Amboise and converted its pagan inhabitants to Christianity. One of the first events by which they were said to have been converted was that Martin by his prayers called up a storm, which struck down the statue of Mars. May we not here detect some relation between the very names as well as the characters of Mars and Martin? A few miles out of Tours there is a village called Cinq-Mars. The name has been made familiar to many readers by the romance of Alfred de Vigny, who was a native of Tours, and whose genius recognized the subject awaiting him at his door in the story of Henry Ruzé, or CinqMars, who headed a conspiracy against Richelieu, and by that implacable man was pursued, and beheaded in his own castle, which was razed to its foundations by the cardinal's fury. Two great solemn towers remain as monuments of this tragedy. It was not these towers, however, nor even the quaint old church (eleventh century), which mainly fascinated me when I went there, but an ancient Roman monument called La Pile de Saint-Mars. The guide-books call this pillar, if it may be so designated, the “puzzle of antiquarians," and the Abbé Chevalier calls it "the despair of archæologists." It consists of a quadrangular brick pillar, over four yards to each side, thirty yards high, and with four smaller pillars at the top, about twenty feet high. One of these smaller pillars is at each corner, and there used to be one in the centre, which was blown down in 1751. This strange edifice is perfectly solid, has nothing in or around it which would indicate that it has ever been utilized. That it was not used for a LA PILE DE SAINT-MARS. watch-tower may be judged from the fact that it is not built on the highest part of the hill, but only half way up. That it was built by the Romans is attested by the character of the brick. There is some ornamental brick-work near the summit which reminded me of some of the ornamentation I have seen on ancient Roman altars, although there are no figures nor any letters which might break the silence of this Sphinx of pillars. Compelled to try speculation where there is no actual evidence, it has occurred to me that some hint may lie in the traditional name of the pillar, Saint-Mars, especially if we connect with it the name of the village Cinq-Mars, and also the tradition recorded by Sulpicius Severus, in the fifth century, that there stood on Amboise rock a pillar surmounted by a statue of the god Mars, thrown down by the prayers of Martin. If the Romans, who conquered this country, had put up such votive pillars to mark fields of victory, each would be dedicated Sancto Marti. In French this would turn to either Cinq or Saint Mars, the two words cinq and saint having the same pronunciation. But it is obvious that Sancto Marti comes very close to Saint Martin. I can not discover any evidence that the young soldier of Constantine I. bore this name before he came to Gaul. It would, indeed, be more in accordance with immemorial usage that he should reject his former name and receive another upon his conversion. And it appears to me probable that it was from these votive pillars to the god of war which Cæsar had left in Gaul (one of whose statues he is said to have overthrown, and the other he may have removed) that the famous Christian gained his name-the saintly Mars. In the earlier time, as we have seen, everything opposed to violence was associated with him. This sweet season, the "Martin's summer," should have made his day earlier than it was ultimately fixed. The robin was sacred to him because it was believed to cover the bodies of the unburied dead in woods and mountains with leaves, in imitation of Martin's charity with his mantle. The martins also received their name from him. The swallows were supposed to migrate to the summer-land of Martin. But the remorseless exigencies of the Church brought an evolution upon Martin. An age came when indulgent saints were not desired. St. Martin's Day was placed after his summer, November 11, when the storms come on. It was a rather sad fate for the converted Mars. So far as anything historical is known about him-and it is not much-he whom the Church reluctantly canonized under that name was pre-eminent for charity. Even heretics might claim Martin as their It is a curious fact that a "Saint Mars" appears in the calendar of the sixth century, of whom nothing is known. Could this have been Martin's earlier title, and this mysterious "S. Mars" his double? patron saint. Fifteen centuries have not taken the human beauty and pathos out of that persistent effort of the old bishop to save Priscillian and his co-heretics. Theirs was not a mild case of heresy either; they were Manicheans, and Priscillian was perhaps the most eloquent and attractive man of his age. He was propagating his views throughout Gaul, and his party had gained the support of several high officials in various places. But a party of bishops, notably Itacius and Idacius, set themselves to hunt them down. They went to Rome and all the ecclesiastical high places; and by telling a good many wild stories about the "Priscillians," as they were called, secured orders forbidding them domicile in any Christian country. Priscillian was arrested at Treves, where the usurping patriarch Maximus had just arrived. Before him the accusers resolved to bring the Manichean. But the Bishop of Tours (Martin) happened to be there also, having come to ask clemency for other persons. He visited Itacius and Idacius, and "employed all his charity, his art, and his eloquence to persuade them to desist from a persecution which dishonored the episcopacy." Having failed to move the bishops, Martin presented himself before Maximus, and pleaded with such power that Itacius accused him of heresy. Martin did not reply to that, and it appears to have done his opponents no service. Martin was soon on his way to Tours, with the promise of Maximus that the lives of the heretics should be spared. But the hunts VOL. LXI.-No. 363.-25 men were not to be foiled: no sooner was Martin out of the way than they summoned two other bishops to their assistance, Magnus and Rufus, and they induced him to give up the whole case to the decision of the prefect Evodius. Evodius was a small personage judging a large case. Astounded to hear that Priscillian had held nocturnal assemblies, he suspected something demonic, without reflecting whether they might not have required the protection of darkness; scandalized to learn that women of doubtful character had been found listening to Priscillian, without studying his Testament to see whether that was really a bad sign; the climax was reached when he heard that Priscillian loved to pray without his clothes! This last little custom, which Priscillian had caught from the hermits of his native Southern clime, probably sealed his fate. Priscillian suffered death with four of his friends. Martin of Tours was cut to the heart when he heard of this, and from that moment refused to have anything whatever to do with the bishops Itacius and Idacius. This refusal of all communication proved to be a heavier revenge than either they or Martin supposed at first. It was found that Martin had already a great reputation for sanctity, and his example was followed by others, notably by Ambrose of Milan. This excited much attention, and the accusers now found themselves the accused. Some other Priscillians having been condemned, Martin petitioned that they should be spared, and Maximus consented on con dition that he would become reconciled to | ley Abbey, in England, where, a good Itacius and Idacius. In order to save the heretics, Martin agreed, very reluctantly, to recognize the two persecutors. But he could not save these from the odium which fell on them in those anomalous times; for though persecution of the Priscillians went on with increasing vigor, the two prelates who had begun it were deposed from their sees, disgraced, and one of them died in exile. There is a pleasant legend of St. Patrick having once journeyed from Ireland to visit Martin. He walked all the way from the sea-shore, and arriving near Tours late at night (Christmas-eve), too weary to proceed farther, he lay down to rest under the branches of a thorn-tree; and by morning this tree had covered itself with fragrant blossoms in honor of the holy man. A few leagues from this is the small village called Saint-Patrice, and there, it has always been alleged, the ancient thorn-tree still stands and flowers every Christmas in memory of this sacred incident. It is a part of the legend that slips from this thorn can not be made to bear winter blossoms in any other spot than that consecrated by the sleep of St. Patrick. many years ago, he grafted a slip of the famous Glastonbury Thorn, which has long been said to put forth blossoms at Christmas. My friend is a skeptic in such matters, but he assures me that the thorn in his garden does put forth, if the winter is warm, a few feeble blossoms. He believes it to be a foreign species. The blossoms do not follow the calendar with precision, but they come near enough to Christmas to be connected with its sanctity. The blossoms are sparse and feeble compared with those put forth by the same thorn in May. Arrived at Saint-Patrice village, we addressed ourselves to some of the upper tradesmen, and they told us that the tree was in the grounds of the Marquis de Castellani. Having repaired thither, namely, to the Château Rochecotte, the servants told us that it was in another direction altogether. Having noted this difference in knowledge of the subject between the well-to-do tradesmen and the servants, we visited another château outside the village, and there found a woman of the estate, who was glad to guide us to "l'épine." It was several hundred yards distant, and on the way she told us that it Although summer is an unfortunate flowered every year, exactly at Christmas, season to explore a legend claiming to au- and that she had herself seen it annually thenticate itself every Christmas, I have for many years. She called it, as everyat least been able to explore it psycholo- body does, "l'épine." Our astonishment, gically, so to say. Entering the region of therefore, may be imagined when we this marvel at Langeais; pausing there in found, first, that there is no tree at all; a quaint church, said to have been built second, that the bush to which we were by St. Martin, and consequently the oldest pointed is not a thorn at all, but a prunelin France, whose gray front is to-day ap- lier, a sloe. I gathered some sloes from pended to a brand-new gay edifice; paus- it, and have them before me as I write. ing to rest in the beautiful gardens of the Beside these few sloes (there is no thorn beautiful château in which Charles the at all in the neighborhood) a little arched Eighth was married to Anne de Bretagne shelter has been erected, on the top of the year before Columbus discovered which is a conventionalized St. Patrick America, and where the splendors and in his robes. I asked the woman what had histories of a thousand years have passed become of the tree. She replied that the to a widow lady without family; pausing visitors who had come there for ages had on an eagle-crowned summit in that won-cut pieces of it, till they had cut it all away, drous garden to look upon the statues-a bronze woman-like Christ, on the pedestal Samson pulling down the temple in juxtaposition with Herakles slaying the Hydra, both symbolical; a nymph here, a Madonna there; now an angel, next a Cupid ;-then turning to look upon the great valley of the Loire, sown with shining châteaux and villages-we travel on, my friend and I, to seek the flowering thorn. My friend owns a garden at Net but these bushes were its descendants, and flowered annually like the parent tree. A particularly intelligent head-servant at Rochecotte, who guided us through that charming château, replete with souvenirs of the Talleyrands, Castellanis, and other grand families, told us that he also had seen "the thorn" flowering at Christmas, but appeared amazed when we showed him the prunelles we had gathered from it. He said that efforts had been made to |