Let us now briefly sum up the history of the acquisition of the relics.  Eginhard makes a contract with Deusdona for the delivery of certain relics which the latter says he possesses.  Eginhard makes no inquiry how he came by them; otherwise, the transaction is innocent enough.

Deusdona turns out to be a swindler, and has no relics.  Thereupon Eginhard’s agent, after due fasting and prayer, breaks open the tombs and helps himself.

Eginhard discovers by the self-betrayal of his brother abbot, Hildoin, that portions of his relics have been stolen and conveyed to the latter.  With much ado he succeeds in getting them back.

Hildoin’s agent, Hunus, in delivering these stolen goods to him, at first declared they were the relics of St. Tiburtius, which Hildoin desired him to obtain; but afterwards invented a story of their being the product of a theft, which the providential drowsiness of his companions enabled him to perpetrate, from the relics which Hildoin well knew were the property of his friend.

Lunison, on the contrary, swears that all his story is false, and that he himself was bribed by Hunus to allow him to steal what he pleased from the property confided to his own and his brother’s care by their guest Ratleig.  And the honest notary himself seems to have no hesitation about lying and stealing to any extent, where the acquisition of relics is the object in view.

For a parallel to these transactions one must read a police report of the doings of a “long firm” or of a set of horse-coupers; yet Eginhard seems to be aware of nothing, but that he has been rather badly used by his friend Hildoin, and the “nequissimus nebulo” Hunus.

It is not easy for a modern Protestant, still less for any one who has the least tincture of scientific culture, whether physical or historical, to picture to himself the state of mind of a man of the ninth century, however cultivated, enlightened, and sincere he may have been.  His deepest convictions, his most cherished hopes, were bound up with the belief in the miraculous.  Life was a constant battle between saints and demons for the possession of the souls of men.  The most superstitious among our modern countrymen turn to supernatural agencies only when natural causes seem insufficient; to Eginhard and his friends the supernatural was the rule; and the sufficiency of natural causes was allowed only when there was nothing to suggest others.

Moreover, it must be recollected that the possession of miracle-working relics was greatly coveted, not only on high, but on very low grounds.  To a man like Eginhard, the mere satisfaction of the religious sentiment was obviously a powerful attraction.  But, more than, this, the possession of such a treasure was an immense practical advantage.  If the saints were duly flattered and worshipped, there was no telling what benefits might result from their interposition on your behalf.  For physical evils, access to