saints, who, having trod these scenes before us, now hold golden
lamps and evergreen palms."

This was the most metaphorical speech which Thomas of Gilsland
was ever known to utter, the rather, perhaps (as will sometimes
happen), that it did not entirely express his own sentiments,
being somewhat a lover of good cheer and splendid accommodation.
By this time they reached the place of the camp where the Knight
of the Leopard had assumed his abode.

Appearances here did indeed promise no breach of the laws of
mortification, to which the Crusaders, according to the opinion
expressed by him of Gilsland, ought to subject themselves. A
space of ground, large enough to accommodate perhaps thirty
tents, according to the Crusaders' rules of castrametation, was
partly vacant--because, in ostentation, the knight had demanded
ground to the extent of his original retinue--partly occupied by
a few miserable huts, hastily constructed of boughs, and covered
with palm-leaves. These habitations seemed entirely deserted,
and several of them were ruinous. The central hut, which
represented the pavilion of the leader, was distinguished by his
swallow-tailed pennon, placed on the point of a spear, from which
its long folds dropped motionless to the ground, as if sickening
under the scorching rays of the Asiatic sun. But no pages or
squires--not even a solitary warder--was placed by the emblem of
feudal power and knightly degree. If its reputation defended it
not from insult, it had no other guard.

Sir Kenneth cast a melancholy look around him, but suppessing his
feelings, entered the hut, making a sign to the Baron of Gilsland