his first solemn equipment as a knight, and the various duties which they intimated were impressed on his mind by every circumstance most likely to influence it.

August assemblies were often collected to witness the investiture of some person of rank, and sometimes even national hostilities were suspended for it. When Charles VI. of France knighted the sons of the Duc d'Anjou at St. Denis, the knights and ladies of England were invited to the feast by couriers sent expressly, though the two countries were then at war.

But, perhaps, the most splendid inauguration the world ever witnessed was that which was celebrated in the abbey of Westminster, in the year 1306, when the Prince of Wales, son of Edward I., received his spurs. Three hundred youths, the hope and pride of the kingdom, the scions of its noblest aristocracy, were at the same period invested with the knightly order. Many of them, with the prince, performed their vigil in Westminster Abbey; but even this lordly precinct was not sufficiently spacious to accommodate all, and many adjourned to the Temple. But, at the time of the solemn investment, the whole three hundred youths, then in the very pride of their years, were robed in purple mantles broidered with gold, the gift of the king, and many of them decorated with furs more valuable in that day than gold.

We may fancy the pride with which the ambitious, but brave monarch, would look upon this hopeful assemblage; we may imagine the hearts swelling almost to bursting of the youths themselves; the manly exultation of their brave fathers and sponsors; the proud yet somewhat tearful admiration of the matrons, who witnessed the sons of many tears, of many hopes, thus introduced to the rough highway of the world; the intense earnestness with which the gentle and high-born maidens observed the whole, here and there one endeavoring, all vainly, to conceal her own especial interest therein.

Around, as far as the eye could reach, amid the dim arches and cloistered gloom, the space was thronged with eager beholders,―heralds, pursuivants, esquires, minstrels, varlets, pages, their brilliant and party-colored vestments contrasted with the dark cowls of the lay brothers of the monastery, or of other members who were

not privileged to press nearer to the scene of action. Immense multitudes thronged the sanctuary without the walls, and every avenue leading therefrom.

Each happy candidate for the honor of knighthood was attended by two or three experienced knights; and so dense, so fearful was the throng in that part of the abbey near the scene of the ceremony, that, it is said, two knights were crushed to death, and many fainted.

No such catastrophe, however, had taken place, or was anticipated, when the jubilant tones of the organ, and the bustle at the further end of the church, announced to the eager multitude that the great personages were arrived, and that the ceremonies were about to commence.

Dense and unbroken as had appeared the mass, a way was insensibly opened, and first came those bearing the banners of the abbey, which were disposed in convenient resting-places near the head of the choir. Then came the choristers in white robes, chanting as they passed along. Acolytes, with their golden censers, flinging streams of rich incense around, which curled aloft, and melted away amid the rich tracery of the roof, were followed by various members of the abbey, in robes of state, and then by the prior of the convent, richly habited, and walking with the bearing of a prince. A priest, bearing a lofty cross, preceded the abbot, Walter de Wenlock, who wore alb, stole, and cope of the richest embroidery, and a silver miter of priceless value, so richly was it emblazoned with pearls and gems. An immense ruby gleamed in front, and on either side were exquisitely-carved images of St. Peter and St. Edward the Confessor. He carried a crosier in his right hand, turning the crook backward toward himself, indicating that his authority was limited to his own community. By his side walked the Bishop of London; for the Abbot of Westminster acknowledged no inferiority, so peculiarly was Westminster privileged. The bishop held his crosier in the left hand, with the crook forward toward the people.

These personages were followed by a priest, bearing a two-ribbed cross before the Archbishop of Canterbury, the noble, independent, and uncompromising Robert of Winchelsea,—that "thorn in the flesh" to Edward I., who had mental nerve to refuse a cardinal's hat; who, though an

archbishop, had been so reduced, in consequence of his unflinching adherence to the principles of his Church, that he had not "one place of all his bishopric whereon to laie his head," and had taken refuge in the house of "a poore persone," but whose unlimited hospitality, benevolent heart, high intellect, and conscientious firmness, albeit imbued with some human weakness in the shape of spiritual pride, had ultimately brought him triumphant through his hard ordeal. He was fully reëstablished in the favor of the king; and, until his own death in 1313, undauntedly rebuked the vices of his weak

successor.

With a calm and lofty dignity, which seemed so entirely to emanate from himself as to be utterly uninfluenced by surrounding circumstances, magnificent as they were, he proceeded to the high altar, which was literally crowded with gold plate and jewelry. A thousand lights dispersed around on various altars, (that of St. Edward being brilliantly conspicuous,) reflected and refracted interminably the glittering gems and jewelry, the gilded banners, and the brilliant dresses, and daylight streaming in through the deeply stained windows, threw fanciful and fairy-like hues on everything.

Scarcely had the prelates taken their places, when an interest, to which the foregoing was as nothing, was excited by the approach of the prince and the king. They and their immediate attendants were quickly marshaled to the places appointed for them, (near which the young queen and her ladies were previously stationed,) and the service commenced with the solemn performance of high mass.

This over, the prince, the "expectancy and rose of the fair state, and the observed of all observers," modestly approached the altar, ascended the steps, and taking his sword from the scarf to which it was appended, bent his knee, and presented it to the priest. It was laid on the altar, and the priest, extending his hand over it, prayed. A solemn oath to fulfill the duties of a Christian knight—which were shortly recapitulated-was then administered to him, which having taken, the prelate put the sword into his hands.

Other prayers were then offered: after which young Edward retired from the altar, and, approaching the king, his father, knelt before him with clasped

hands. Some appointed questions were then asked by the king, and replied to by the youth; and then the ceremony proceeded by investing him with various parts of the dress of the knight, beginning with the spurs, a magnificent golden pair, which the king handed to the young queen, who placed them on her step-son's feet, and ending with the belt, which was always the last. The king himself girt this on his son; and then giving him, as he knelt, a slight blow on the shoulder, proclaimed him a knight in the name of God and the saints. In an instant a thousand swords were gleaming in the air, while all the knights present hailed their new brother; and their loud acclaim being heard without, was echoed by the jubilant and accordant shout of the myriads congregated around. It sank, but was raised again and again; but, ere the swords were sheathed, and ere the voices had subsided, the tones of prayer and blessing were heard again from the altar.

Prince Edward had now the proud privilege of conferring the honor he had just received on his companions in arms, all of whom received the accolade from him; and no sooner were all admitted to the "Holy Order," than preparation was made for another ceremony.

Amid the clangor of trumpets and the din of martial sounds, drowned, however, it is said, by the shouts of the people, several attendants passed along the abbey, bearing two swans, covered with golden nets, and almost hidden in the studs of gold with which they were adorned. Being placed as appointed, the king advanced toward them; and, raising his hands over them, he vowed to Heaven and the swans that he would go to Scotland,—and though death should be the result of the exertion, he would avenge the fate of Comyn, and the violated faith of the Scots. He adjured the prince, the nobles, and the knights, by their fealty and chivalry, that, if he should die on his journey, they would carry his body forward, and never bury it till his son had established his dominion. All assented: excited by the scene, the knights vowed themselves to various chivalrous undertakings and Prince Edward, in the enthusiasm of the hour, vowed never to rest two nights in one place until he had accomplished his royal father's will; a vow, by-the-way, which he full soon forgot.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON AT CHURCH.

THE

THE following interesting description of the Duke of Wellington's attendance at church was written by the Rev. Thresham Gregg, of Dublin, and is copied from the Constitution and Church Sentinel of that city:

"I agreed with a friend to go to early service (at eight o'clock A. M.) at the Chapel Royal, St. James's Palace, on a Sunday morning in February. The fact that the Duke of Wellington habitually attended there was the subordinate inducement; for assuredly, in going to the court of the great King, the Lord of the whole earth, to worship and adore him must be a motive paramount to every other. I had never seen the duke, and I felt that I should have to sustain a feeling of self-reproach if, with the opportunity of seeing him within my reach, I allowed the greatest captain of this age, perhaps of any age, to leave the world unseen by me.

"It was a bleak morning-there had been a heavy fall of snow. Our way to the chapel lay through St. James's Park. We did not meet a single person. The stillness of London on the earliest hours of Sundays has often struck me. The state of the weather made this stillness seem greater than usual on this morning, and raised a suspicion in our minds that, in so far as our visit to the chapel involved the hope of our seeing the duke, it would be attended with disappointment.

"Arrived there, however, and, with the usual preliminaries, admitted within, we found a singularly interesting congregation. The Chapel Royal is remarkable for a large attendance of the aristocracy, and we saw before us a congregation of rank, fashion, fame, power, worth, and wisdom, such as is rarely witnessed. In a word, the congregation consisted of one single person— the duke alone! Bleak as was the morning, there he was, ladened with more of earth's honors, dignities, and renown, than any living man, and with but one stain upon his character, intently occupied with the worship of his God, and all alone with the clergyman. Thoughts came flowing in upon us from all quarters Waterloo, Victoria, Salamanca; clashing thousands, the wounded, the dying; the silent camp, 'the imminent deadly breach;' glorious victories, admiring millions, applauding senates, grateful princes, gorgeous courts-all, in fact, that is viewed as great and glorious in this lower world, with the one exception, as so related to the great personage before us, that they, in our minds, connected themselves with him, and were, by his presence on this occasion, forced before our imagination, and, as it were, seen realized. Here was the giant spirit which had been raised to sit upon the whirlwind and rule the storm; which had, instrumentally, for years decided the fortunes of nations, and peoples, and kindreds, and tongues, and received more of the incense of human gratitude, thanksgiving, and praise, than had, perhaps, ever before been awarded to a mortal. Nor did there fail

to mingle with the retrospect, thrones overturned, dynasties swept away, hopes which towered to heaven flung into perdition, curses both loud and deep.

"On our entrance the psalms of the day were being read. The duke took alternate verses with the clergyman. He spoke with an utterance that was thick and indistinct, and occasionally stammered a little ere he got out a word, but still his voice filled the chapel. The duke was as painstaking in the performance of his duty as ever parish clerk was, and much more so than many of the fraternity whom I have happened with. The rubric was punetiliously observed. At the creed he turned to the communion table, repeated the words distinctly and aloud; and all through impressed the spectator with the idea that he was intently engaged in the fulfilment of an important business of his own. The emphasis in the Litany was strong and marked, 'We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.' And at the commandments, Incline our hearts to keep this law,' was thus repeated on each occasion.

"The lessons for the morning were Genesis ix and Mark xiv. The sermon was remarkable, on Exodus, chapter xxiii, and 2d verse. It briefly but strongly showed the dangers connected with too great a subserviency to the popular voice, and of course, without any intention on the part of the writer and preacher, dealt some strokes which the duke must have. felt; for here, as all through, the attention which he paid was exemplary.

"With respect to the personal appearance of the duke generally, it was much more robus tious than the portraits would lead one to suppose. The popular idea is, that His Grace is a little and delicate old man, whose frame wears an appearance of great frugality. Not at all-quite the contrary. He never would be remarked as 'a little man,' and has not the slightest appearance of delicacy. In fact, both face and person realize the 'Iron Duke.' The former is remarkable for a deep tan, which would bespeak habitual exposure to the sun and tropical climes; the latter for a particularly strong build-shoulders broad, the calf of the leg full. The knee and the body straight and erect, but the head much stooped. The gait can only be described, so as to make the reader understand it, as a toddle-something like (saving the reader's favor) that of a little tipsy -from side to side. He wore a blue frock coat and cross-barred trowsers; the boots rather loose, and evidently of long standing; indeed all the clothes, without being shabby, had seen some service. The stock was white cambric with a tie in front, but buckled behind with a large steel, military-looking buckle, which from the stoop in the head was very conspicuous. He wore also a gold apparatus for the improvement of the hearing, which, taken in connection. with the buckle of his stock, gave to his upper man a very metallic tone, as though he were in some sort an artificial man, made up of and supported by a combination of metals. We followed him at a respectful distance, as he walked to his cab, which, with his servant in it, awaited his arrival. He got in without assistance, and was driven away."