ilding of the cross {21}.

But the explanation, probably true, was the signal for frantic
cries:

"Out on the blasphemer! The accursed Jew! Let him die the death!"

And it is very probable that he would have been "done to death" had
not an interruption, characteristic of the age, occurred.

Two friars, clad in the garb of Saint Francis, just then entered
the square and learned the cause of the tumult. Their action was
immediate. The brethren stalked into the midst of the crowd, which
made way for them as if a superior being had commanded their
reverence, and one of the two mounted on a cart, and took for his
text, in a clear piercing voice which was heard everywhere,
"Christ, and Him crucified."

The swords were hastily thrust into their scabbards, the missiles
ceased. The other brother had reached the Jew.

"Vengeance is mine, I will repay," said he. "He is the prisoner of
the Lord; accursed be he who touches him; may his hand rot off, and
his light be extinguished in darkness."

All was now silence as the first brother, pale with recent illness,
but radiant with emotion, began to speak.

And Martin preached, taking his illustrations from the
circumstances of the day.

"The object of the Crucifixion," he said, "had yet to be attained
amongst them."

A crucifix had, as he heard, shone with a mysterious light, and one
had desecrated it with his tongue. But, worse than that, he saw a
thousand desecrated forms before him who ought to be living
crucifixes, for were they not told to crucify the flesh with its
affections and lusts, to remain upon their voluntary crosses till
Christ said, "Come down. Well done, good and faithful servant.
Enter thou into the joy of the Lord"? And were they doing this?
Were they repaying the love of Calvary, as for instance the saints
of that day, Saints Philip and James, had done; giving heart for
heart, love for love; or were they worshipping dread and ghastly
idols, their own lusts and passions? In short, were they to be
companions of the angels--God's holy ones? Or the slaves and sport
of the cruel and fiery fiends for evermore?

The power of an orator, and Martin was a born orator, over the men
of the middle ages was marvellous. Few could read, and books were
scarce as jewels. The tongue, the living voice, had to do the work
which the public press does now, as well as its own, and the
preacher was a power. But those medieval sermons were full of
quaint illustrations.

Mart