70 

 THE ROMANCE OF WESTERN HISTORY. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF THE PANORAMA OF TORQUAY. 



NO. I. THE HOSPITAL OF ST. JOHN. 



FOR THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. 



In the palmy days of those Monasteries whose relics we regard 

 with so much enthusiasm, there stood on the stone bridge over the 

 Loe stream at Helleston in Cornwall, an Hospital dedicated to St. 

 John. This work of the piety of our Catholic forefathers gave to 

 the edifice which bore it in its prosperity, the name which it yet re- 

 tains in memory of its decay. It was a chill evening of November, 

 and the few religious were assembling at vespers in the little chapel of the 

 Hospital. The sky which had been lowering during the day, and 

 threatening at intervals an approaching storm, now poured forth its 

 torrents on the unhappy traveller uho had to make his way over the 

 dreary downs, in the neighbourhood of that now fiourishinj town. 



The wind at first whistltd in fitful gusts around the holy building 

 but now, concentrating its violence, it seemed to carry every thing 

 before it down the little valley of the Loe, and to unite with the rising : 

 waters of the swelling river to sweep away at once the gothic cell and 

 the structure on which it stood. 



" Father Eustace," said the Sub Prior of St. (iermans who was 

 there sojourning, " let us not delay the vespers, it is time we were 

 kneeling in prayer for a renewal of mercy, in this fearful tempest ; 

 instead of wasting these precious moments in idleness and indeci- 

 sion. " Scarcely had he spoken when a loud knocking was heard 

 nt the outer postern ; and as the gusts of wind rose and fell, a voice 

 was distinctly recognised imploring shelter from a storm which 

 it could not abide. Kather Eustace, who was the superior of the 

 Establishment, united to a mind far removed from the selfishness of 

 a bigot, much of the milk of hu man kindness ; he had embraced 

 the priesthood in contrition for his rebellious grief (as he termed it) 

 at a series of painful dispensations, which had bereft him of all the 

 world held dear and he had himself loved. The venerable man ran 

 hastily to the doorway, and admitted the stranger without further 

 question. When they entered.the building, and rejoined the assem- 

 bled circle, the Sub Prior could not help remarking the appearance of 

 the two persons. The few, thin silver locks of Father Eustace, which 

 his faith permitted him to retain, fell over a countenance furrowed in- 

 .1 '! by time and cares, but breathing such a spirit of benevolence and 



