effect of age, and the smoke of incense and candles.  The antiquity of the image is, moreover, proved by the artistic treatment.  The Child is crowned and rests upon the Virgin’s knee; she does not touch him with her hands.  This is in accordance with the early Christian sentiment, which dwells upon the kingship of the Child as distinguished from the later mediaeval feeling, which rests without fear upon the Virgin’s maternal love and makes her clasp the Infant fondly to her breast.

The ‘miraculous bell’ of Roc-Amadour has not rung since 1551, but it may do so any day or night, for it is still suspended to the vault of the Miraculous Chapel.  It is of iron, and was beaten into shape with the hammer—­facts which, together with its form, are regarded as certain evidence of its antiquity.  The first time that it is said to have rung by its own movement was in 1385, and three days afterwards, according to Odo de Gissey, the phenomenon was repeated during the celebration of the Mass.  All those who were present bore testimony to the fact upon oath before the apostolic notary.

Very early in the Middle Ages the faith spread among mariners, and others exposed to the dangers of the sea, that the Lady of Roc-Amadour had great power to help them when in distress.  Hugues Farsit, Canon of Laon, wrote a treatise in 1140, ’De miraculis Beatae Virginis rupis Amatoris,’ wherein he speaks of her as the ‘Star of the Sea,’ and the hymn ‘Ave maris stella’ is one of those most frequently sung in these days by the pilgrims at Roc-Amadour.  A statement, written and signed by a Breton pilgrim in 1534, shows how widely this particular devotion had then spread among those who trusted their lives to the uncertain sea: 

’I, Louis Le Baille, merchant of the town of Pontscorf, on the river Elle, in the diocese of Vannes, declare with truth that, returning from a voyage to Scotland the 13th of the month of February, 1534, at about ten o’clock at night, we were overtaken by such a violent storm that the waves covered the vessel, in which were twenty-six persons, and we went to the bottom.  During the voyage somebody said to me:  “Let us recommend ourselves to God and to the Virgin Mary of Roc-Amadour.  Let us put her name upon this spar and trust ourselves to the care of this good Lady.”  He who gave me this good counsel and myself fastened ourselves to the spar with a rope.  The tempest carried us away, but in so fortunate a manner that the next day we found ourselves on the coast of Bayonne.  Half dead, we landed by the grace of God and the aid of His pitiful mother, Notre Dame de Roc-Amadour.  I have come here out of gratitude for this blessing, and have accomplished the journey in fulfilment of my vow to her, in proof of which, I have signed here with my hand.—­Louis Baille.’