had incited them to make.

"He conquered Lorraine, and planned to subdue Switzerland and add it
to Burgundy. He entered Switzerland, captured Grandson, and hanged and
drowned the garrison. The Swiss rose unitedly against such a merciless
foe, and utterly defeated him. But he raised another army and again
entered Switzerland, full of visions of conquest. He was again
defeated.

[Illustration: CHARLES THE RASH DISCOVERED.]

"He came back to Burgundy, morose and gloomy. His nails and beard grew
long; he looked like a wild man; the people recoiled from him, and
his dark character seemed to throw a shadow around him wherever he
appeared.

"Lorraine, which he had conquered, rose against him. This roused him
again to action: he hired soldiers, and led the way to war. He met the
rebellious Lorrainers in the plain of Nancy. Here the rash duke made
his last fight. It was a snowy day, and the battle was a short
one,--the soldiers of Charles flying quickly before the enemy.

"When the duke was preparing himself for the battle, the gilt lion
which formed the crest of his helmet fell off.

"'It is a sign from God,' said he, smitten in conscience.

"When the battle was over his body was nowhere to be found.

"They searched for it in the snow-covered fields. At last a Roman page
said he had seen the duke fall. He led the people towards a frozen
pond, where were some bodies lying, stripped. A washerwoman who had
joined in the search, saw the glitter of a jewel on the hand of a
corpse whose face was not visible. The head was frozen in the ice. The
position of the body was changed. It was Charles the Rash. He was
finally buried in the church of Notre Dame, whose spire you may
already see shining in the sun."

The story of Charles the Rash led the Class to visit the old church of
Notre Dame soon after their arrival in the courtly old city. It had a
greater charm for the boys than the ornate town-hall with its famous
belfry and its many bells. In a side chapel was the tomb of the rash
duke and that of his daughter, Mary of Burgundy.

"I can only think of the snowy field, and the naked body frozen in the
ice," said Ernest Wynn, as he left the solemn chapel.

The belfry of Bruges, of which so much has been said and sung, is
really only about three hundred feet high, but affords a grand view of
the surrounding country. Its chimes play by machinery four times an
hour, and are regarded the finest in Europe.

We must let Longfello