At the farther end of the meadow or valley an altar had been erected.  Here the banners drew up in a vast semicircle enclosing the great audience, and vespers were sung, after which the fifty thousand worshipers knelt and received the benediction, which was pronounced by eight bishops simultaneously.  The services before the altar being thus concluded, the bearers of the banners again formed in procession for the purpose of carrying them to the church upon the rock, in which they were to be placed.  At this time the sun was sinking behind the blue Pyrenean peaks, and as it threw its last red gleams upon the splendid train that wound in and out along the craggy mountain-path it lighted up a picture of resplendent glory.  As fast as the banners arrived at the church they were placed upon its walls, which were soon completely covered with their gorgeous hangings.  Owing to the length of the procession, it was after sunset when the last banner had been placed in the church, which, with its brilliant adornments flashing in the blaze of wax tapers, was one grand glow of glittering splendor.  After a brief service of thanksgiving the congregation withdrew, and descended the mountain in the light of bonfires that burned upon numerous cliffs.

A spectacle of equal brilliancy, though less pompous, was presented by the grand torchlight procession which formed one evening in the square of Lourdes, where all were provided with candles.  Thirty thousand persons were in this procession.  They marched to the grotto of Massabielle and to the church upon the rock, moving slowly and singing hymns.  As they moved they formed a great stream of glittering light, which rolled on and on and up and up, across the meadow and up the sinuous mountain-path.  This impressive display lasted until midnight, when the greater number of the lights had died out and their bearers retired.  But a goodly company still remained in the crypt of the church at prayer, in some instances fighting off sleep by marching up and down in companies, chanting night-prayers.

Thus a nation’s ardent worshipers assembled in devotion at the spot sanctified by the visions of Bernadette Soubirons.  And what shall we say of her?  Her professed visions cannot be set aside as impostures against the voice of thousands whose skepticism, as great as ours, has been abashed.  It could not have been in the nature of this artless child, unencouraged and alone, to have been an impostor.  Such would have been a role thoroughly foreign to her character.  Perhaps there may have been illusion, a self-nourished fancy, evoked from the silent reveries of those solitary days at Bastres, when her mind was for long periods given up to undisturbed imaginings.  Who can say?

WILLIAM D. WOOD.

BENEDICTION.

  Good-bye, good-bye, my dearest! 
  My bravest and my fairest! 
  I bless thee with a blessing meet
    For all thy manly worth. 
  Good-bye, good-bye, my treasure! 
  My only pride and pleasure! 
  I bless thee with the strength of love
    Before I send thee forth.