the monk has stolen the horse. Thus all who meet him will strike him with their staves as he passes, and it will be thought that he came to his death in that way." Though this seemed to the butcher rather a mad project, yet, as no better one offered itself at the moment, and there was no time for reflection, mad as the project was they determined to put it into execution. Accordingly the butcher's horse was brought out, and the friar was bound upon his back, and with much difficulty fixed in an upright position. The butcher then gave the horse a blow upon the crupper with his staff, which set him into a smart gallop down the street, and he and his man joined in pursuit, crying "Stop thief! Stop thief! The friar has stolen my horse !" As it was now sunrise, the streets were full of people,-peasants driving their goods to market, and citizens going to their daily avocations. When they saw the friar dashing at full speed down the street, they joined in the cry of " Stop thief!-Stop that horse!" and many who endeavoured to seize the bridle, as the friar passed them at full speed, were thrown upon the pavement, and trampled under foot others joined in the halloo ! and the pursuit; but this only served to quicken the gallop of the frightened steed, who dashed down one street and up another like the wind, with two or three mounted citizens clattering in full cry at his heels. At length they reached the market-place. The people scattered right and left in dismay; and the steed and rider dashed onward, overthrowing in their course men and women, and stalls, and piles of merchandise, and sweeping away like a whirlwind. Tramp-tramp-tramp! they clattered on; they had distanced all pursuit. They reached the quay; the wide pavement was cleared at a bound--one more wild leap--and splash!— both horse and rider sank into the rapid current of the river--swept down the stream—and were seen no more! THE VILLAGE OF AUTEUIL. Il n'est tel plaisir Parmy les beaux champs, L'herbe verd choisir, Et prendre bon temps. MARTIAL D'AUVERGNE. |