of its fate. The Christians selected an archbishop. There was a poor and ignorant priest called Baldwin. He had tattooed his forehead with the sign of the cross, and made money by pretending that it was a miraculous sign. Everybody knew that he was an impostor, but probably because the pilgrims insisted on believing in his sanctity, and in order to conciliate this important element of the population, he was chosen to be the archbishop. The Egyptian Caliph, whose plan of operation seems to have been to send constant reinforcements to Ascalon, and use that strong place as a centre from which to harass the Christians, gave orders to try, with the coming of spring, another incursion. Baldwin met the advanced guard of the Egyptian troops near Bamleh. He had got together three hundred knights aDd nine hundred foot. The Saracens were ten times as numerous. The king, tying a white banner to his lance, led the way, and performed prodigies of valour. And, as usual, the Mohammedans were seized with a panic and fled. It was at this time that the wretched remains of the new armies of pilgrims arrived in Palestine. Their numbers were not large, as we have seen, but their arrival was the most opportune thing that could have happened for Baldwin. For, having seen the sacred places, they were preparing for their return home when the news arrived of the coming into Palestine of another vast army of Egyptians. They were, as usual, in the neighbourhood of Ascalon. Baldwin hastened to meet them with a handful of knights, among whom was the unfortunate Count of Blois and the Duke of Burgundy. They were all cut to pieces, Baldwin, himself, escaping with the greatest difficulty, and almost alone, to Bamleh. In the morning he found himself, with his little band, in a place without any means of defence, and surrounded by an enormous army, through which it was hopeless to think of cutting a way. And then occurred one of the most singular