Lady Isabeau came, laden with gold and
gems, and poured them out before the shrine
of the Crucifix, carved by Nicodemus, and
miraculously floated from Joppa, up the
little River Maie, to Rue; and when that
cunning prince, the church-loving Louis the
Eleventh, made one of his pilgrimages to this
place, in hopes of bribing Heaven, with four
thousand crowns of gold, to declare itself on
his side against his sworn enemy, Charlerois.

The front of the church is still one mass of
ornament, and there are numerous figures
in the niches of the pillars which support the
façade—Louis the Eleventh, and Twelfth, and
Thirteenth, Isabeau and her Duke, and one
figure close to them which looks strangely
like their favourite jester. Saint Wulphy
himself is there, he whose life is said to have
been so very extraordinary, that even his
monkish biographer declares that he does not
venture to record all the facts, for fear of not
being believed; a piece of caution the more
singular, as he tells many histories sufficiently
startling of other saints belonging to this
favoured province of Ponthieu. As, for
instance, how Saint Josse, a personage once
much in vogue in these parts, was one day
tending his poultry, when an eagle suddenly
pounced down on the unlucky birds, and
carried off eleven hens one after another, and
at last returned for the cock. The saint,
unable to bear this "unkindest cut of all,"
immediately began to pray, and signing
himself with the cross, made the eagle descend,
cast itself at his feet, and expire in a state
of remorse, after giving up both cock and
hens safe and sound. The same historian
recounts how Saint Valerj' had only to look
at the vegetables in a certain abbey garden
to destroy the insects which were destroying
them.

As for Saint Riquier, the chronicler makes
no mystery of the fact of his having sat in a
ditch all one night in a violent snow-storm,
without a single flake having touched him.
Saint Wulphy could do far more wonderful
things, but we are left to burst in ignorance
as to what they were, and to guess at his
figure on the wall, not knowing his attributes.

While we were busy gazing at the carved
wonders on the wall of an upper chamber
called La Trésorerie, which we gained by a
narrow winding stair, the doorway to which
was also elaborately ornamented, we had
infinite difficulty to repress the desire of our
friend the Lion-tamer to detach some portion
of the carving, which he desired that we
should carry away as a relic. In whispered
entreaties we repudiated his proposed gift;
but we saw by his manner that he had a
purpose, and we dreaded to look his way
while we remained.

There was one piece of ancient oak, the
remains of a cabinet, to which he particularly
attached himself, and to which our rosy-faced
guide directed his attention in an evil hour,
assuring us that M. le Doyen considered it
one of the most curious bits of the old church.
It was a sort of rail, exquisitely cut in a
pattern of leaves, and animals, and grape
clusters, beneath the upper edge of which
the following antique inscription in gold
letters appeared:

En. l'an. mil. chinc. chens et un
Moy. tresorie. fus. comêchie
Et. je. fus, parfaicte
En. l'an de grace, mil v et xiij.

Our distress far exceeded gratitude when, on
our guide leaving us at the call of her nephew,
who clamoured from below, our officious and
over zealous friend produced in triumph two
leaves which he had abstracted from this
carving.

"I had," said he, unblushingly, "knocked
off a bit of the doorway downstairs, but I
found it was only plaster, which accounted
for its coming off so easily. Oh! if I had
but one of my instruments I invented them
myself you should have had a whole boss."

With a shudder we besought him to think
of such sacrilege no more; and, satisfied with
having outwitted M. le Doyen, he consented
to give up further molestation, quietly
observing, ''Ah, dame! if everybody carried
off as much as I should like to have, there
would not be a great deal of the old church
left."

We were offered medals, of which there
is a large collection struck, bearing the effigies
of the crucifix, and recording the Indulgences
granted to the pilgrim who undertakes a
pious journey to the shrine at the present
day. It is likely to turn out a good speculation,
and M. le Doyen neglects no means of
making known the opportunity which sinners
have of getting rid of their little peccadillos
"for a consideration." We fear the piety of our
companion did not induce him to buy one in
the hope of wiping off the sin he had
committed for our sake.

SNAKES MAGICAL AND MYTHOLOGICAL.

AMONG the various creatures that figure in
mythus or legend, none are so conspicuous as
the snake and its near kinsman the dragon.
Diving to the very depths of mythological
research, in whatever region we pursue our
investigations, it is ten chances to one, but we find
a snake or a serpent or a dragon at the bottom.
There are serpents good and serpents evil;
now, the reptile appears as the chief object of
worship; now, as the foe to be overthrown.
Even in the tales current among peasants
we find snake-stories of opposite morals, some
inculcating the doctrine that the snakes should
be used kindly, others pointing out the
expediency of knocking them on the head. With
the ancient Romans and Etrurians the serpent
form was the natural one in which the genius
of an individual or of a place was supposed
to manifest itself, and in some of the Northern