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The only hymn I could find in the book that I knew was the fine old hymn, "How Firm a Foundation," and that was sung heartily to the "Adeste Fideles." They are naturally a musical race, picking up airs with great facility, and they thoroughly enjoy singing. After the service the missionary confided some of his troubles to me.
The Christmas night would not have been half so joyful lacking his Adeste Fideles; the Stabat Mater sung by him in Holy Week made her tears of religious sorrow burst forth afresh; and when on Easter morning he sang the Gloria it had seemed to her that the heavens were opening. For all that, however, he had been to her not a person, but a voice.
A high ruff encircled his neck, from which also depended one of the Beggar's medals, with the motto, "Fideles au roy jusqu'a la besace," while a loose surcoat of grey frieze cloth, over a tawny leather doublet, with wide, slashed underclothes completed his costume. Gerard presented himself at the doorway, and demanded a passport.
The General himself clasped the ornament on Nelly's neck, where it lay emitting soft fires of milky rose and emerald. There was a little pause. The Tree seemed to be finished. The women-folk began to clear their throats for the Adeste Fideles with which the festivity concluded. Afterwards there was to be a glass of champagne all round.
That distant figure will be Brother Flavio, of the Franciscan Order, and the old boy is going to ramp up and down in front of those chimes with a hammer and give me a concert. He'll bang out 'Adeste Fideles' and 'Gloria in Excelsis. That's a cinch, because he's a creature of habit. Occasionally he plays 'Lead, Kindly Light' and 'Ave Maria'!"
"Statuimus etiam ut omnis liber homo feodere et sacramento affirmet, quod intra et extra Angliam. Willelmo regi fideles ease volunt, terras et honorem illius omni fidelitate cum eo servare et ante eum contra inimicos defendere." I think the documents I have quoted show that Sir Martin Wright, Sir William Blackstone, and Messrs.
He didn't have on his tricoloured scarf, so I suppose he doesn't possess one. It was a pretty, simple service. When the curé and his two choir children in their short, white surplices and red petticoats came up the aisle, the choir sang the fine old hymn "Adeste Fideles," the congregation all joining in.
Whenever I was shut in that room, as I was several times, I prayed for "les ames des fideles trepasses:" the souls of those faithful ones who have long been in purgatory, and have no relations living to pray for them. My feelings were often of the most painful description, while I remained alone with those frightful pictures. Jane Ray was once put in, and uttered the most dreadful shrieks.
In the first place, he had just completed the destruction of the Jesuits, and this was entitling him to no small thanks and praises from encyclopedists. Every one knows those two lines of Voltaire's "Aranda dans l'Espagne instruisant les fideles, A l'inquisition vient de rogner les ailes." *
Then Constance O'Neill's deep, smooth alto flowed into Betty's soprano; and at the last all nine girls joined in "Adeste Fideles." Christmas morning began with music and laughter. "This is your place, Betty. You are lord of Christmas morning." Betty stood, blushing, red as the holly in her hand, before the breakfast table. Miss Hyle, the teacher at the head of the table, had given up her place.
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