Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. * But now farewell. I am going a long way To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, So said he, and the barge with oar and sail That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn, THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. The picture I want next to show you is by that rare old artist, Dan Chaucer, who painted in such rich and glowing colors, that his creations are as fresh and attractive to-day as when they were first called forth by his magic pen. It represents a merry company that set out on a journey, one bright morning in April, many years ago. They called the journey a pilgrimage, because they were on their way to worship at the shrine of Thomas à Becket1 in Canterbury. You know what was meant by a pilgrimage; how the pilgrim, with staff and scrip, went many weary miles on foot, that he might atone for his sins by praying at the tomb of some well-known saint. The most sacred pilgrimages were made to the tomb of our Savior in the holy city of Jerusalem; but there 1Thomas à Becket was Archbishop of Canterbury in the reign of Henry II. After his murder by the servants of the king, he was regarded as a saint; and pilgrimages were constantly made to his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral. were other shrines nearer home, and the tomb of à Becket had long been a favorite place of worship. These, however, were not always solemn and fatiguing journeys. Oftentimes, people who were going to the same shrine would form a little company; and, thinking that the Evil One was thwarted by the object of their journey, they would give themselves up, on the way, to mirth and jollity. Well, these Canterbury Pilgrims were just such a joyous company, when they set forth from the Tabard Inn, one sunny morning so long ago. Can you see in the picture, the beautiful blue sky, the green hedge, and the white May blossoms? It is no wonder that, at this delightful season of the year, people did you Would like to know who some of these merry pilgrims are? That big man with the jolly face, who seems to be the leader of the of the Tabard Inn. all going in the same party, is Harry Bailey, the host When he learned that they were direction, he offered to conduct |