few; the public health, as well as
the public morals, has been notably improved; and from the time when a
young painter employed in the prison was decoyed into this portion of
it and killed within a few hours, the occurrence of deeds of violence
within its walls has been very rare.

From the top of the Faubourg St Denis, all through the suburb of La
Chapelle, the long line of modern habitations extends, without
offering any points of historical interest. It is, indeed, a very
commonplace, everyday kind of road, which hardly any Englishman that
has jumbled along in the Messageries Royales can fail of recollecting.
Nothing poetical, nothing romantic, was ever known to take place
between the Barriere de St Denis and the town where the abbey stands.
We know, however, of an odd occurrence upon this ground, towards the
end of the thirteenth century, (we were not alive then, gentle
reader,) strikingly illustrative of the superstition of the times. In
1274, the church of St Gervais, in Paris, was broken into one night by
some sacrilegious dog, who ran off with the golden pix, containing the
consecrated wafer or host. Not thinking himself safe within the city,
away he went for St Denis--got without the city walls in safety, and
made off as fast as he could for the abbatial town. Before arriving
there, he thought he would have a look at the contents of the precious
vessel, when, on his opening the lid, out jumped the holy wafer, up it
flew into the air over his head, and there it kept dodging about, and
bobbing up and down, behind the affrightened thief, and following him
wherever he went. He rushed into the town of St Denis, but there was
the wafer coming after him, and just above his head; whichever way he
turned, there was the flying wafer. It was now broad daylight, and
some of the inhabitants perceived the miracle. This was immediately
reported by them to the abbot of the monastery. The holy father and
his monks sallied forth; all saw the wafer as plain as they saw each
others' shaven crowns. The man was immediately arrested; the pix was
found on him, and the abbot, as a feudal seigneur, having the right of
life and death within his own fief, had him hung up to the nearest
tree within five minutes. The abbot then sent word to the Bishop of
Paris of what had occurred; and the prelate, attended by the curates
and clergy of the capital, went to St Denis to witness the miracle.
But wonders were not to cease; there they found the