procession. And when they stood at the roode the priest did there his
service, making certain prayers for the beasts, and then he went up to
the first pace and preached a sermon to the people, shewing them that as
our lord Jhu dyed upon the Tree of his deare mercy for us, so we too owe
mercy to the beasts his Creatures, for that they are all his poor lieges
and silly servants. And that like as the Holy Aungells do atheir suit to
him on high, and the Blessed xii Apostles and the Martirs, and all the
Blissful Saints served him aforetime on earth and now praise him in
heaven, so also do the beasts serve him, though they be in torment of
life and below men. For their spirit goeth downward, as Holy Writ
teacheth us."

It was a quaint old record, a curious relic of what the modern
inhabitants of Caermaen called the Dark Ages. A few of the stones that
had formed the base of the cross still remained in position, grey with
age, blotched with black lichen and green moss. The remainder of the
ramous rood had been used to mend the roads, to built pigsties and
domestic offices; it had turned Protestant, in fact. Indeed, if it had
remained, the parson of Caermaen would have had no time for the service;
the coffee-stall, the Portuguese Missions, the Society for the Conversion
of the Jews, and important social duties took up all his leisure.
Besides, he thought the whole ceremony unscriptural.

Lucian passed on his way, wondering at the strange contrasts of the
Middle Ages. How was it that people who could devise so beautiful a
service believed in witchcraft, demoniacal possession and obsession, in
the incubus and succubus, and in the Sabbath an in many other horrible
absurdities? It seemed astonishing that anybody could even pretend to
credit such monstrous tales, but there could be no doubt that the dread
of old women who rode on broomsticks and liked black cats was once a very