etected. Day by
day they awoke with fresh hope which was fed by the sight of a castle
or walled town which they thought might be Jerusalem, and night after
night they lay down victims of a cruel deception--poor deluded, wilful,
little pilgrims! On and on they marched through central France, through
Burgundy, and beautiful Provence, and finally from the last range of
hills they had to climb, there burst on them a view of the cool, blue
sea, and from their ranks there came a mighty cheer! With renewed hope
they hurried down to the walls of the city of Marseilles which they saw
lying below the hills, an enchanting vision of cool green beauty to
their untravelled eyes. Their shouts announced their arrival to the
people of the city, who hurried to street corners and to market places,
and saw with curious and astonished eyes the strangest of all armies
which had ever visited their city before, and young and old listened
with wide-eyed astonishment to the tale they told. Three hundred miles
they had come, those children, in about a month, and the sea was now to
divide that they might pass over in safety to accomplish their holy
object!

Unlike the German army, their numbers were scarcely lessened, as many
new recruits had joined the ranks and replaced those few who had
deserted or fallen by the way-side. So it was not a small and tattered
or worn-out band who made their appeal to the Marseillian authorities,
but an imposing band of twenty thousand youths, still flushed with
health and hope.

Having no political reason to refuse them entrance to the city, and
possibly rejoicing to have such an influx of pilgrims, permission to
stay was given to the host of youths, who with their leader and the
older companions who had followed the army, accepted the hospitality of
Marseilles and were housed in various places for the one night which
was to be the preface to that miracle which would prove their Divine
mission.

After a night of fitful sleep and vivid dreams, Stephen at dawn crept
out alone, and hastened to the shore of the sea, where he feasted his
hungry eyes on its surging depths, crying, "How long, oh, Lord, how
long, before thou wilt show thy power?" For hours he remained there, by
the sea, and yet there came no pathway for their pilgrim feet to tread.
Soon his army had clustered around him, and there they watched, and
waited, asking eager questions, and Stephen's hour for victory or
defeat had come.

Standing on a rock