number, and fed them on the choicest fruits and nuts, steeped in the best of wines, and the whole highly perfumed. One day, as this "holy father" was performing the ceremonies of mass, forgetting, no doubt for a while, the cares of the stable, he received the intelligence that a certain mare, a particular favorite of his, had foaled. This was too much for the old man's religious devotion to withstand. He stopped at once, in the midst of the solemn service, left the church, and ran in transports of delight to the stable; when, after having satisfied his curiosity, and seen that his services were no longer needed in officiating, concerning the treatment of the young colt and its mother, he returned to his waiting audience and completed his official duties as a holy priest of God. Such follies we may always expect to find where ignorance, such as characterized the tenth century, prevails. There were, it is true, schools established expressly for the purpose of instructing in the various sciences, as then understood, those who were expecting to enter the ministry. But how can we expect a school to turn out bright scholars if its teachers are ignorant, superstitious men? "Nothing," says an author in speaking of these institutions, "can be more wretchedly barbarous than the manner in which the sciences were taught in them." And what must have been the moral and religious training given in these schools, if we take Theophylact as a fair sample of their alumni? During the latter part of this century, Gerbert, an aspiring Frenchman, who assumed the title of Sylvester II., did much to encourage the study of the sciences, especially that of mathematics. His knowledge, although superficial when compared with that of learned men of modern times, was at first considered wonderful, and his teachings incomprehensible, not only by the common people, but even by the pretended philosophers of that barbarous age. They even considered the demonstration of a geometrical problem the work of magic, and accused Gerbert of being in league with the devil. Among other false notions which obtained in this age of follies, was a belief that the final judgment was near at hand. It was nothing uncommon at that time, historians tell us, to behold fine churches and other buildings going to wreck; for the superstitious people thought that they would no longer be of any service to them, as the end was drawing nigh. In short, all busi ness was shamefully neglected; and when an eclipse of the sun or moon occurred, the miserable wretches ran to the mountains, and concealed themselves in dens and caves. But we need not marvel at this, for we occasionally behold a few in this age who act in the same foolish manner. During the eleventh century learning began to show some unmistakable signs of life, by rubbing her heavy eyes, and casting them wistfully around upon the dark, dark world. But it was yet a great while before she became fully aroused from her long and fearful state of torpidity, and again fearlessly ventured forth from her wretched retreat, to cheer and gladden the gloomy spirits of those seeking light and knowledge to guide them into the way of holiness. The revival of literature received, doubtless, a great check, just as it was beginning to dawn, by the "holy wars" against the infidels of Palestine, which commenced in the latter part of this century. Peter the Hermit, the great leader of the first Crusade, left an example to the world, showing that great things can be accomplished by an earnest, zealous perseverance. If each one of Christ's ministers would manifest the same interest in raising a |