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Ebook has 1708 lines and 112926 words, and 35 pages

"Yes, that indeed we have, venerable father," replied she. "Come in and seat you by the fire, and we will see what the cottage can supply in the way of victuals."

He stepped in, and was welcomed with equal kindness by the husband, who placed for him a seat near the fire, took off his coat, which he suspended before the fire to dry, and gave him a sheepskin to throw over his shoulders; whilst the dame bustled about in the way of cooking some slices of mutton and bringing out some of her best bread, with a wooden drinking vessel filled with home-made barley liquor, not unlike the ale of after days.

He was then invited to seat himself at the table, a board resting on two trestles, and ate heartily of the viands before him. After the meal, and when he was thoroughly warmed and made comfortable, he entered into conversation with the worthy couple, and ascertained that the man was a shepherd, and made a fairly comfortable living out of his small flock of sheep, which supplied him and his wife with raiment and flesh meat for food, besides a small surplus for barter to procure other necessaries. He told them that he was a wanderer on the face of the earth, not a Briton, but allied to people who lived in the far east near the sun rising, and that he had come hither to tell the Britons of the true God, and that they whom they worshipped were not gods at all; to all which they listened with wonderment and awe, but displayed none of the bigotry and hostility to adverse faiths which had been so practically shown in the city. With eloquent tongue he explained to them the mysteries of the Christian religion, but they comprehended him not, such matters being entirely beyond the capacities of their understandings. Nevertheless they were much interested in some of the narratives, such as the nativity and the visit of the Magi; the miraculous cures of the sick; the crucifixion, the resurrection, and the ascension, all which were told with great graphic power, and listened to with rapt ears; and they sat on late into the night in this converse, and then a bed of several layers of straw was made for the stranger in a warm corner of the cottage, and a couple of sheep skins given him for coverlets.

The following morning broke bright and cheerful, a complete contrast to the preceding day. The sun came out with a radiance as brilliant as it was possible for a midwinter sun to do, and lighted up the hills, on which the snow crystals glistened, and the roofs of the houses in the valley below, with a splendour seldom beheld at that period of the year, and the people of the city hailed the sight as a response to their festival prayers, that the God of Day would still continue to shower his blessings upon them, and bring forth their crops and fruits in due course. The guest at the shepherd's cottage, wearied with his wanderings and the buffeting of the storm, slept long after the sun had risen; but his hosts had been up betimes, the shepherd having gone to look after his sheep, and his wife to prepare a warm breakfast for him on his return. When this was ready, and the shepherd had come home, their guest was awakened, and partook with them of their meal of sheep's flesh, brown bread, and ewe's milk. He had performed certain devotions on rising, such as his entertainers understood not, but which they assumed to be acts of adoration and thanksgiving to his God.

Resuming his cloak, now thoroughly dried, his flapped hat, and his long walking staff, he went out to pursue his journey. With his hosts he stood on the elevated ground on which the cottage was situated, and looked down upon the city in the valley below, from which there rose up the busy hum of voices of men going about their vocations for the day, with them the first of their new-born year.

The stranger looked down upon the city for some moments in silence; then stretching forth his arms towards it, he exclaimed, "Oh city! thou art fair to look upon, but thou art the habitation of hard, unfeeling, and uncharitable men, who regard themselves alone, and neither respect age nor sympathise with poverty and infirmity! Thou art the abode of those who worship false gods, and shut their ears to, nay, more, maltreat those who would point out their errors and lead them into the path of truth; therefore, oh city! it is fitting that thou shouldst cease to cumber the earth; that thou shouldst be swept away as were Sodom and Gomorrah. As for you," he added, turning to the shepherd and his wife, "you took the stranger in under your roof, sheltered him from the storm, fed him when ahungered, and comforted him as far as your means permitted. For this accept my thanks and benison, and know that my benison is worth the acceptance, for I am not what I seem--a frail mortal--but one of those who stand round the throne of the God I told you of last evening, which is in the midst of the stars of the firmament. May your flocks increase, and your crops never fail; may you live to advanced age, and see your children and children's children grow up around you, wealthy in this world's wealth, honoured, and respected." Turning again towards the city, and again stretching forth his arms over it, the mysterious stranger cried out in a voice that might be heard in the streets below:--

"Semerwater, rise; Semerwater, sink; And swallow all the town, save this lile House, where they gave me meat and drink."

Immediately a loud noise was heard, as of the bursting up of a hundred fountains from the earth, and the water rushed upward from every part of the city like the vomiting of volcanoes; the inhabitants cried out with terror-fraught shouts, and attempted to escape up the hills, but were swept back by the surging flood, which waved and dashed like the waves of the tempestuous sea. Higher and higher rose the water; overwhelmed the houses and advanced up the sides of the hill, engulfing everything and destroying every vestige of life, and eventually it settled down into the vast lake as it may now be seen.

It may be thought that this was a cruel act of revenge on the part of the angel, but we have the authority of Milton, that the angelic mind was susceptible of the human weakness of ambition; why, therefore, should it not be actuated by that other human passion of revenge?

The shepherd and his wife gazed on the spectacle of the destruction of the city with awe-stricken countenances, when another spectacle filled them with equal amazement. They turned their eyes upon their guest, who still stood by them, but who was undergoing a wonderful transformation. From an aged and infirm man he was becoming youthful in appearance, of noble figure, with lineaments of celestial beauty, and an aureola of golden light flashing round his head. His tattered and way-worn garments seemed to be melting into thin air and passing away, and in their place appeared a long white robe, as if woven of the snow crystals of the surrounding hills; whilst from his shoulders there streamed forth a pair of pinions, which he now expanded, and waving an adieu to his late entertainers, he rose up into the air, and in a few minutes had passed beyond their sight.

The shepherd's flocks soon began to multiply wonderfully, and he speedily became one of the richest men of the countryside. His sons grew up and prospered as their father had, and their descendants flourished for many generations in their several branches as some of the most important and wealthy families of the district. The old man and his wife abandoned the old Druidical religion, and prayed to the unknown God of whom their guest spoke on the memorable evening preceding the destruction of the city; and when the Apostles of Christianity came hither, were among the first converts. There may be sceptics who may doubt the truth of this legend, but there the Lake of Semerwater still remains, and what can be a more convincing proof of its truth, as old Willet was wont to say, when pointing to the block of wood at the door of his inn at Chigwell, as a triumphant proof of the truth of the story he had been narrating. The rustics of the neighbourhood also assert that they have seen, fathoms deep in the lake, the chimneys and church spires of the engulfed city; but as there were neither churches nor chimneys when that city was in existence, we are inclined to believe that this is an optical delusion.

The "Worm" of Nunnington.

A charming pastoral scene might have been witnessed in the picturesque valley of Ryedale, northward of Malton, and not far distant from the spot where, in after ages, sprung up the towers of Byland Abbey, one fair midsummer eve in the earlier half of the sixth century--a scene that would have gladdened the heart of a painter, and made him eager to transfer it to canvas, to display it on the walls of the next Royal Academy Exhibition, had painters and Royal Academy Exhibitions been then in vogue. It was in a village near the banks of the Rye--the precursor of what is now called Nunnington; what was its Celtic name we are informed not, but it was a Celtic village, and inhabited by Celtic people, who had been Christianised, and taught the usages and habits of civilized life during the supremacy of the Romans in the island, who had now departed to defend the capital of the world against the incursions of the hordes of barbarians who were thundering at its gates, leaving the Britons, enervated by civilisation and its attendant luxuries, a prey to the Picts and Scots and the Teutonic pirates who infested the surrounding seas.

It was an age of chivalry and romance; the half real, half mythical Arthur ruled over the land, and made head against the Scots and the Teutons, defeating both in several battles. He instituted the chivalric Order of Knights of the Round Table--whose members were patterns of valour and exemplars in religion, and who went forth as knights-errant to correct abuses, protect the fairer and weaker sex, chastise oppressors, release those who were under spells of enchantment, and do battle with giants, ogres, malicious dwarfs, and enchanters, also with dragons, hippogriffs, wyverns, serpents, and other similarly obnoxious creatures. Who hath not read of their marvellous adventures and valorous exploits in the quest of the Sang-real, the histories of Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram, La Morte d'Arthur, and the Idylls of the King? Witches and warlocks, sorcerers and ogres, tyrants and oppressors, then abounded in the land, and beauteous damsels, the victims of their cruelty and lust, so that there was plenty of work, to say nothing of the reptiles of the forests, for the entire army of valiant knights who went forth from Caerleon on the Usk in quest of adventures, inspired by the approving smile of Queen Guinevere and of the fair ladies in whose honour they placed lance in rest, and whose supremacy of beauty they vowed to maintain in many a joust and tournament.

The village lay in a spot where nature had spread out some of her loveliest features of valley, upland, and meandering river of silvery sheen running through the midst; whilst trees of luxuriant foliage, in groups and thickets of forest land, enshrined the whole as a fitting framework for the sylvan picture. Farmsteads were scattered about, and a cluster of humbler cottages, the habitations of the serf class of farm labourers constituted the village.

As we have seen, it was Midsummer Eve, a day of festival and rejoicing which had been observed from time immemorial, for now the sun approached the nearest to the zenith with its fructifying beams, and in celebration of the event a huge bonfire had been built up on an eminence outside the village; whilst around it, hand in hand, danced the youths and maidens with much glee and merriment, with boisterous mirth, and many a joke and song, and moreover with no lack of flirtation between the lads and lasses, who footed it merrily, and became more and more vigorous in the dances as the flames mounted higher and higher. Although they knew it not, this village carnival was a survival of the paganism of the past, when the remote ancestors of the existing generation worshipped Baal, the great Sun God. It had come down through centuries of homage to the creature instead of the Creator, and having been regarded as a great holiday, did not suffer extinction at the advent of Christianity, but was permitted to be retained in that capacity, without any reference to religious ceremonial, which in course of time was entirely forgotten. And it is a remarkable instance of the vitality of ancient customs to observe that in some parts of Yorkshire, in Holderness to wit, "Beal fires" are lighted on Midsummer Eve, even to the present day.

The elders of the village were seated about in groups on the turf, watching the upblazing of the fire, casting approving smiles on the joyous gambols and incipient match-making of their progeny, and talking of their own juvenile days, when they were equally happy partners in the circling dance. The blue sky overhead was cloudless, and in the western horizon the setting sun shot forth beams of golden light; and all was hilarity and happiness. A queen of the festival had been chosen--the most beautiful maiden of the village, a sweet girl of eighteen, with brilliant complexion, melting blue eyes, and flowing curls of flaxen hue. A platform of boughs had been improvised upon which to carry her on the shoulders of a half-dozen young bachelors back to the village with songs of triumph, and the procession had just been arranged, when a loud hissing sound was heard to issue from the neighbouring forest, a sound which in these days would have been attributed to a passing railway train; but which then sounded strange and unearthly, and spread consternation among the merrymakers, who turned and looked with panic-stricken countenances in the direction from whence the sound came.

The first impulse of the crowd was to fly to their homes, from the unknown object of dread, but curiosity prompted a counter-impulse, a desire to see what gave rise to the fear-inspiring sound. Nor had they long to wait, for a few minutes after a monstrous reptile, with the body of a serpent and the head of a dragon, its mouth seeming, to their excited imaginations, to breathe out flame, issued from the wood and came across the open space with fearful but graceful undulations towards the terrified villagers. The air appeared to become charged, too, with a pestiferous influence, issuing from the nostrils of the monster, which increased in intensity the nearer it came. With shrieks and wild cries, those who had been dancing so merrily but a few minutes before took to their heels to find refuge in their cottages, exclaiming, "Oh, that Sir Peter Loschi were here to deliver us from the monster!" All reached their habitations and barred their doors; all save one, the beautiful young queen of the festival, the pride of the village--the beloved of every one--who, fascinated like a bird by the eyes of the reptile, had stood gazing upon it so long that she was quite in the rear of the fugitives, and was overtaken by the serpent, who immediately coiled the foremost part of its body round her, and in this fashion carried her back into the forest. As she did not reappear, it was concluded that she had been devoured; and day after day one young damsel after another disappeared after going to the spring for water, or on other open-air errands, all of whom, it was doubted not, had furnished meals for the monster. Indeed, at times he was seen carrying them off as he had done the poor little queen, until at length the village seemed to be becoming depopulated of its maidenhood. The men at times went armed with bludgeons to attack the serpent in his cave on the hill side, but were ever driven back by the poisonous exhalations of the animal's breath, which seemed to render them faint and powerless; and two or three of the bolder spirits who approached the nearest to the den died under its influence. And the people continued to cry, "Oh, Sir Peter Loschi, why do you tarry?"--for in him lay all their hope of deliverance.

This Sir Peter Loschi, whose aid was so frequently and fervently invoked, was the owner of a castle and certain broad acres in the vicinity. He was a Celt of unadulterated blood, although his name has nothing Celtic about it. Single names were then only used, with the exception of an addition of some personal characteristic or locality, for distinction sake when there were two persons bearing the same, and we may suppose that the two names of Peter and Loschi originally formed one word, which has become altered and corrupted in passing from generation to generation, in a similar manner to that of George Zavier, which became transmuted through Georgy Zavier, etc., to eventually Corky Shaver. Be that as it may, he was the last male of a long line of ancient British knights and warriors, and was himself not inferior to any of his ancestors in military skill and almost reckless daring, having fought with distinction against the wild hordes of Picts and Scots, who came down from their desolate northern mountains to make raids on the more fertile lands of the Britons south of the Border, and against the piratical Saxons and Angles who were endeavouring to get a foothold on the island. He was one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, and was often at the Court of Queen Guinevere at Caerleon, consorting with his brother knights in the mutual recital of their adventures, in friendly tilting matches, and in dallying with the fair ladies of the Court, one of whom he had chosen as the mistress of his heart, and whose favour he wore in front of his helmet at many a passage of arms in the courtyard of a castle or in the field of a tournament. Occasionally he went forth for periods of six or twelve months as a knight-errant, for the purpose of redressing wrongs, slaying enchanters, etc., and was known as the Knight of the Sable Plume, from that ornamental appendage of his casque. The cognisance that he bore on his shield was a chevron arg. between three plumes sable, on ground or; and many a doughty deed had he performed, young as he still was, under this cognisance.

He did not spend much time at his ancestral home in Ryedale, being so much occupied at Court and in the quest of adventures as a knight-errant, only going there occasionally to regulate matters relating to his household and estates, look after his vassals and retainers, and make arrangements for the well-being of the villagers. He had now been absent about three years, having, at the instance of his ladye-love at Caerleon, donned his armour, taken his lance in hand, and gone for that space of time to protect the impotent, redress the injured and oppressed, and slay giants and sorcerers, as a test of his valour, at the end of which said period, if he had acquitted himself as a preux-chevalier, she might possibly consent to become the mistress of Ryedale Castle. The period was now drawing to a close, and he had performed many a valorous deed; he had slain a gigantic Saxon in single combat; he had recovered the standard of King Arthur from some half-dozen Picts, who had seized it after killing the bearer of it; he had rescued a damsel from the hands of an enchanter; another from the fangs and claws of a lion, and a third from a giant who was dragging her along by the hair of her head; he had killed a dragon, a griffin, and a hippogriff, had done many another wondrous and valorous deed, and was now going back to Caerleon to claim the hand of the lady at whose behest he had performed all these marvellous achievements, little dreaming all the time that his own people in Ryedale were in sore need of his stalwart arm and trusty sword.

As the knight had been northward, it was necessary to pass through what is now Yorkshire on his way to Caerleon, and he deemed it expedient to call at his Ryedale Castle to see how matters had been going on there during his long absence. It was about a month after the first appearance of the "worm," when the villagers were beginning to experience the truth of the saying that "hope deferred maketh the heart sick," having lost many members of their community through the propensity of the serpent for human flesh, and no Sir Peter coming to deliver them from the ravages of the monster, when the figure of a horseman, with a nodding black plume, was seen "pricking o'er the plain," who was immediately recognised as the veritable Sir Peter Loschi, which gave rise to an exhilarating shout of welcome from the villagers, who cried, "Now shall we be delivered from the ravenous worm." Sir Peter rode on to his castle, where the first being to welcome him was a favourite mastiff, who came gambolling about him with the most affectionate demonstrations of rejoicing at seeing his master once more. The following morning a deputation of the villagers waited upon him, explained their troubles in respect to the worm, and prayed for his assistance in ridding them of the monster. He inquired into the particulars, and having been accustomed in his travels to several encounters with noxious animals of this character, he readily understood what he would have to deal with, and promised his aid, but added that as some preparations would be necessary, the enemy being of an exceptional description, he would not be able to undertake it within a month, and that they must endure it the best they could in the interval.

Sir Peter got a sight of the serpent, and a formidable monster he appeared to be, more terrible than any he had previously met with; and he saw that it behoved him to make special provision for the combat. He pondered the matter over for a few days, and then mounted his steed and rode to Sheffield, where he employed certain cunning artificers to make him a complete suit of armour studded with razor blades. Although razors are alluded to by Homer, and have been used by the Chinese for unknown centuries, it is doubtful whether they were a staple manufacture on the banks of the Sheaf and the Rivelin in the sixth century. It is true that Chaucer speaks of a "Sheffield whittle," but this was eight centuries afterwards, and it is equally to be doubted whether Sheffield, even as a village, existed at that time; but anachronisms are of small moment in legends, and we are required to accept it as a fact, that the knight had his novel suit of armour fabricated in the valley of the Sheaf.

When it was completed, he returned with it to Ryedale, and gladly was he welcomed by the villagers, as the serpent had been committing more ravages amongst the population. He had a sword, a Damascus blade of wonderful keenness, which possessed certain magical properties, similar to those of King Arthur's famous Excaliber; and one morning, after donning his armour, he took the sword in his hand and went forth to the combat. His dog accompanied him, and it was with difficulty that he was prevented from leaping up in caressing gambols against the sharp razor blades.

The serpent had its den in the side of a wooded eminence near East Newton, by Stonegrave, which has since then gone by the name of Loschy Hill, in memory of the great fight between the Knight and the Dragon. Sir Peter, who was on foot, strode along boldly towards the hill, followed by his dog, which seemed to be perfectly aware that some exciting sport was before them, as he rushed about hither and thither, sniffing the air, as if his keen scent gave him intimation that game of an unusual character was not far off, and he barked and growled, as if in defiance of the foe; whilst the villagers stood afar off, with eager countenances, to watch the progress of the combat. As the knight came nearer, he became aware of a pestiferous odour that seemed to contaminate the air; and the dog scented and sniffed, and gave vent to more prolonged growlings and louder barking, and seemed to tremble with excitement in anticipation of the coming fray.

The serpent had not yet breakfasted, and seeing the man and dog approach, darted from his den and made for the dog, with which he thought to stay his appetite as a first mouthful, but the dog was too nimble and eluded his attack, leaping upon one of the curves of its body and biting it with mad excitement; whilst the knight struck it a blow with his sword which almost cut off its head, but the wound healed up instantly, and the serpent coiled itself round his body, in order to crush the life out of him, and then devour him at its leisure. It had not, in doing so, taken into account the razor blades, which cut its body in a multitude of gashes, and caused the blood to stream down on the earth; but this was not of much consequence, as it immediately uncoiled and rolled itself on the earth, when all the wounds closed up. Foiled in this attack, the monster then began to vomit out a poisonous vapour, so horrible and overcoming that the knight seemed ready to sink under its influence, but rallying his energies, he aimed a blow which cut the serpent in two, but the severed parts joined again immediately. All this time the monster was hissing in a fearful manner, and breathing out poison, and the knight began to fear he must succumb and become its prey; but determined not to give in so long as he could continue the fight, he aimed another blow with his sword and severed a portion of the tail end, although feeling persuaded that it would become reunited as before; but his dog, evidently a sagacious animal, having witnessed the former reunion, seized it in its teeth and ran off with it to a neighbouring hill, then returned and carried away other portions as they were cut off successively. The serpent writhed with pain, but afraid, or seeing the uselessness of attacking the razor-armed man, made many attempts to seize the dog, but in vain, as he was too agile to be caught; therefore he depended more on the venom of his breath at this juncture, which he continued to pour forth, and which he knew must eventually overpower his enemy. The dog had returned from his third or fourth journey and came up to his master, wagging his tail in seeming congratulation of the cleverness with which they were gradually accomplishing the destruction of the foe, when the serpent made a spring upon him, but at the same instant the knight's magic sword descended upon his neck and severed the head from the body, which the dog at once seized and carried off to a distance, placing it on a hill near where Nunnington Church now stands.

The monster was now dead which had caused so much terror and desolation, and the villagers shouted with joy as they saw the head carried past by the dog. Meanwhile the knight stood by the remaining portion of the body as it lay prone on the earth, quivering with the remains of its vitality. He was exhausted with his exertions, but more by the poisonous exhalation which the body still gave forth, but in rapidly diminishing volume. He was recovering from its effects and was waiting awhile to gain sufficient energy to leave the scene of his triumph, when the dog returned, but apparently in a very languid condition; still, however, evincing marks of satisfaction and pleasure at the conquest he and his master had achieved. The knight stooped down to pat caressingly his faithful companion, who, in return, reached up and licked his face. Unfortunately, in carrying away the head, the seat of the venom, the dog had imbibed the poison, and in licking his master's face had imparted the virus to him, and a few minutes were sufficient to produce its fatal effects, the knight and his dog falling to the earth together, and when the villagers came up they found both dead.

Although the villagers were rejoiced at the death of the serpent, their lamentations were equally great over the fate of the knight, who had sacrificed his life for their deliverance; and for many a month and year did they cherish his memory and mourn his death.

In Nunnington Church there is a monument of a knight, a recumbent effigy, with a dog crouching at his feet; and this, tradition says, is the tomb of the valorous Sir Peter Loschi and his equally valorous dog, who were buried together, and the monument erected in grateful memory of their achievement.

The Devil's Arrows.

This spot, says Dr. Stukeley, was in the British time "the scene of the great Panegyre of the Druids, the midsummer meeting of all the country round, to celebrate the great quarterly sacrifice, accompanied with sports, games, races, and all kinds of exercises, with universal festivity. This was like the Olympian and Nemean meetings and games among the Grecians."

It was soon after the Crucifixion that certain Apostles of the Cross, headed by Joseph of Arimathea, found their way from Palestine to the remote and benighted isle of Britain, in obedience to the Divine command to go forth and preach the Gospel to every creature. After their disembarkation they proceeded inland until they came to Glastonbury; and ascending the hill there, Joseph struck his walking staff in the earth and proclaimed that there should be established the first Christian church of Britain, and in confirmation thereof his staff miraculously took root, put forth branches, and although it was midwinter--Christmas Day--budded and blossomed into a rose, as its successors here continued to do on every successive Christmas Day. The Apostles preached to the barbarian people, made some converts, and erected a temporary wooden church for the performance of divine service, which was the precursor of the magnificent Abbey that afterwards rose on the site, and flourished in great prosperity until its extinction under the sacrilegious hand of Henry the Eighth.

When the new faith had taken root at Glastonbury, the Apostles divided themselves into bands of two or three, and departed north, south, east, and west, to proclaim the glad tidings in other parts of the island. One of these bands, going northwards, preached to the Cornabii and the Coritani of Mid-Britain, and then passed onward to the Brigantes, the greatest and most warlike of the kingdoms of Britain. They travelled on foot, staff in hand, and subsisted on the charity of the people; but had often to endure great hardships, having often to pass through scantily peopled districts, where wild fruits were their only food, the water of the wayside brooks their drink, and their sleeping couches the heather of the moor or the turf under the canopy of a forest tree. But all these discomforts they endured with cheerfulness, besides perils from wolves, wild boars, and other denizens of the woodlands, feeling assured that their Master would reward them a thousand-fold for their sufferings in His service.

On entering the Brigantian kingdom they learned that the capital city was Iseur, some considerable distance northward, and thither they bent their way in the hope of enlightening the King in spiritual matters as a means of facilitating the conversion of his people. With wearied steps they passed from village to village, through forests and swamps, and over black moorlands, fording the rivers where practicable, or where they were too deep for so doing going along the bank until they met with a fisherman or villager to ferry them across in his coracle; and in due course, after many days of toilsome journeying, came to the city of Iseur.

The city stood in a forest clearing, surrounded by a stockade of felled trees, with an entrenchment for protection against enemies, and for the security of their flocks and herds against the attacks of wild beasts. In the centre stood the King's Palace, a tolerably spacious edifice built of unhewn blocks of stone, placed in cyclopean fashion without mortar; and scattered around were the mud-built and straw-thatched dwellings of the people. There was no temple of their deity, the gods of the Britons disdaining mortal-built places of worship. But adjacent was a separate forest clearing, with a circling of huge forest oaks, on which grew the sacred mistletoe, which constituted a temple not built with hands; and in which was a pool of water, indispensable in the ceremonials of their religion, where the beaver abounded, and was used as an emblem of the flood, of which the Britons had a tradition; and here were constructed the wickerwork forms of gigantic human beings, which at certain seasons were filled with men, women, and children, and burnt to propitiate the wrath of their god.

The King inquired of the strangers who they were and what was their purpose in thus coming to his court. The Apostles replied that they were people of a far distant land, near the sunrising, and had come hither to show them their errors in worshipping false gods, and point out to them the true object of worship, the one only God, the Maker of heaven and earth, and the awarder of happiness or misery in the future life beyond the grave. A murmur of dissatisfaction arose at this announcement amongst the Druids, who whispered amongst themselves that it was fitting such blasphemers should be offered up as sacrifices to their god.

"Truly," said the King, "you have come on a strange errand; we are firm believers in and devout worshippers of the one Supreme God, as you pretend to be. Do we not yearly offer up on His altars hundreds of human victims to propitiate His good-will? What more would you have? We believe what you do, and a great deal more, for we have a host of minor deities whom we pay adoration to. Methinks you had better return to your own country and not trouble us with your hallucinations, so as to cause a schism in the faith. We are content with our own belief, which teaches us that when we die the souls of those who have done justly will pass gradually into a higher and higher sphere, until at length, when perfectly purified, it will become absorbed in the essence of the Deity, or become an inferior god; whilst those of the wicked will be transformed to the bodies of inferior and unclean animals, and eventually be annihilated."

The Apostles upon this explained briefly the principles of the Christian religion, the fall of man and his loss of the divine favour, his necessary condemnation to temporal and eternal death, and the redemptorial scheme, in which God himself, or rather his Son, who was identical with himself, suffered death on the cross, taking upon himself, in lieu of man, the threatened penalty.

"Is your God dead, then?" inquired the King; "or is it possible for God to die. If so, our faith is better than yours, for our God is immortal."

The Apostles then entered into an elaborate disquisition on the subtleties of the necessity and nature of the Divine scheme for the salvation of the human race, but the reasonings were too abstruse for the King's comprehension, as, indeed, were they for the more cultured minds of the Druids; therefore the King declined any further discourse on the subject, adding that he was perfectly willing that they should be courteously treated and have fair play, as they had come so far with the intent, as it seemed to them, of doing him and his people a service; therefore he would appoint a day on which they should have a full and fair discussion with the Druids on the merits of the respective faiths, and in the meantime they should be hospitably entertained at his cost, and with this the audience terminated.

It happened that at this time the Father of Evil was prowling about Britain, with the object of thwarting the efforts of St. Joseph and his band of missionaries for the evangelisation of the land. He employed himself chiefly about Glastonbury and its neighbourhood, the primitive and central seat of British Christianity, and centuries elapsed before he relaxed his persistent attempt to eradicate the faith, hostile to himself, which had taken root there. Nine hundred years afterwards we find that he was a perpetual annoyance to the holy St. Dunstan in his Glastonbury cell, continually intruding upon him when engaged in his studies, and offering to him the most seductive temptations, until, on one occasion, he made his appearance before him when he was engaged on some blacksmith work, and commenced tempting him to sell his soul to him for unbounded wealth and the highest temporal distinction. The saint, however, was proof against his temptations, and resolved to free himself once for all from his importunities, took his red-hot tongs from the fire, and seized him by the nose. The devil roared out lustily with the pain, although one would fancy, from fire being his natural element, that it would not incommode him greatly; nevertheless, he prayed abjectly to be released from the tongs, but the saint would not release him until he promised to give him no further annoyance.

He had followed in the footsteps of the three Apostles on the northern mission, and was present, although invisible, at the interview with the King of the Brigantes; and when the conference between the Apostles and the Druids was arranged by the King, he determined upon presenting himself at the meeting in a more tangible and palpable form, to overthrow the arguments of the former by the power of his eloquence and logical force of reasoning, feeling exceedingly loth to run the risk of losing so cherished a section of his dominions, which would ensue in case the King should be convinced by the preaching and the powerful arguments of the Apostles.

The conference was appointed to come off on the slopes of the Hambleton Hills, at the foot of Roulston Crag and there, on the auspicious morning, might be seen a large assemblage gathered together, presenting a very animated and picturesque grouping. The King, as president of the assembly, took his seat on an improvised throne. He was clothed in the most splendid of his regal vestments, and held in his hand his bronze-headed spear, as an emblem of his Royal authority. On his right stood a group of Druids, clad in long white linen robes, with circlets of oak leaves round their heads, and on his left the three Christian Apostles, in their weather-stained Oriental garments, whilst scattered around, was a considerable number of Brigantian warriors, courtiers, agriculturists, and serfs more or less garmented in coarse woollen fabrics or skins of animals, or without clothing of any kind, but with painted or tattooed skins, on which were depicted figures of the sun, the moon, and sundry animals. The King opened the proceedings by stating the object of the meeting, and calling upon the Apostles to explain what they wished to inculcate, promising them a fair and candid hearing, and assuring them that if what they said appeared at all consonant with reason, it should have due consideration. In all respects the meeting was very similar to that which was convened nearly 600 years afterwards by Eadwine, King of Northumbria, for a discussion of the merits of Christianity, between St. Paulinus, the apostle of Rome, and Coiffi, the High Priest of Woden, which resulted in the second establishment of Christianity in the district, which constitutes the modern Yorkshire. Just as one of the Apostles was commencing to speak, a venerable Druid, with a beard reaching half-way down to his waist, and attired in the official long white robe, entered the assembly, and made his obeisance to the King, who inquired who he was and whither he had come. "I am the High Priest, oh King," he replied, "of the great and famous forest temple of Llyn yr a vanc" . "A report came thither that certain strangers had come to the Court of Iseur from some distant land, to promulgate a foreign and damnable heresy; and I, as being well versed in the truths of our faith, and gifted with an eloquent tongue, have been deputed by my brethren to attend this conference, and aid, to the best of my ability, in discomfiting these foreign heretics, whose object is to uproot our holy religion and substitute a false theological creed."

"You are welcome!" said the King. "Take your place among your brother Druids on my right. Give heed to what the strangers have to say, and reply to their arguments as your reason and lengthened experience may dictate."

The stranger took the place indicated, and the King bade the Apostles tell what they had to say on the object of their mission, upon which the eldest looking of the three, stretching forth his arms as Raphael depicted Paul when preaching at Athens, commenced his harangue by giving an outline of the history of man as recorded in the Scriptures, his fall from innocence and perfection, by the seductions of the enemy of mankind, who for his rebellious ambition had been banished from heaven and cast down into hell, and who since then had been going to and fro in the earth tempting man to sin against his Maker, in which he had been so successful that God repented of having made man, and had caused all mankind to perish save one family, and then explained that afterwards, when the earth had again become populated, he compassionated man's fallen estate, and had sent his Son to take on himself the penalty due to man's transgression, that all, through him, might be placed in a state of salvation from that death eternal which they inherited from the transgression of their first ancestor; and wound up by imploring the King and all present to abandon their impotent and bloodthirsty gods, believe in the God of Mercy whom they proclaimed, and accept the salvation offered through the merits of Him who was crucified.

The Druid, who had come afar, then rose and craved permission to reply, which was granted, and he stood forth on a mass of rock, with a majestic presence and dignified air. He laughed to scorn the fables which they had listened to, which were only fit to delude the ears of silly old women, and could not be accepted for a moment by men endowed with the faculty of reasoning. "We are told," said he, "that man was made perfect, and was at the same time fallible; that God is immutable, and yet repented; that a creature, the work of His hands, has become His rival, and from what we hear has become even more potent than his Maker; has set up a rival kingdom, and is able to wrest from the hands of God three-fourths of the beings whom He creates, a God who is asserted to be omnipotent; with many such subtle questions, inquiring--Can these be compatible with reason, and can you, as men of sense, believe them?" He then descanted on the superior merits of the Druidical religion, contrasting its "simple truth" with the "absurd fables told us by these foreigners;" concluding with a forcible and eloquent appeal to those who listened to him not to abandon the gods of their fathers, and go hankering after strange gods, especially such as were recommended by such baseless arguments and improbable tales as they had just heard.

When he concluded a murmur of applause agitated the assembly like a rustling of leaves in the forest, and the King said, "Venerable father, thou speakest well; thy words are those of truth; and it only remains to bid these strangers depart from our shores and return to the land from whence they have come, bearing with them our thanks for having come so far to teach us what they conceive to be the truth, but which we are unable to accept as consonant with reason."

In the vehemence of his oratorical action, the Druid had caught up the skirt of his robe, and the apostle had spied protruding therefrom a cloven foot, and moreover that the heat issuing therefrom had caused the upper part of the rock on which it was placed to become partially liquefied, or rather gelatinised, so that it adhered to the foot. Suspecting, therefore, whom he had to deal with, he cried out on receiving the order to depart, "Hearken, oh King, I have told you of the arch-enemy of God and mankind, who tempted the first man to sin, and still goes about luring men to perdition; behold he--even he--is present in this assembly, and has been addressing you in advocacy of the false religion, which you, in your ignorance, maintain. Him will I unmask;" and addressing himself to the Druid, he cried in a stern and commanding voice, "Satan, I defy thee! in the name of the Saviour of mankind, I command thee to display thyself in thy proper person, and depart hence to the hell from whence thou comest." In an instant, at that adjuration, the Druid's robe and the venerable beard fell from him, and he stood revealed in all his hideous deformity, with a malignant scowl on his countenance, and springing up, he took flight, impregnating the air with a sulphurous perfume, carrying with him a mass of rock, weighing several tons, which adhered to his foot.

At this unanswerable demonstration of truth of the religion proclaimed by the Apostles, the King, and even the Druids, became converted, and underwent the ceremony of baptism; and the Apostles were empowered to go throughout Brigantium and preach the Gospel, which resulted in the conversion of multitudes, and the Brigantes became a Christian people.

Satan, however, although foiled so signally, set his wits to work to be avenged on the King for deserting his standard. He recollected the piece of rock which he had brought from Roulston and dropped in his flight some seven or eight miles from Iseur, the King's capital city, and this he resolved upon making use of to destroy that city. Accordingly he winged his way thither, and splitting up the rock fashioned it into four huge obelisk-like forms, and standing upon How-hill, he hurled them at Iseur, crying out:--

"Borobrig, keep out of the way, For Auldboro town I will ding down."

The stones which were thus intended to "ding down" the King's city were miraculously intercepted in their flight, falling and fixing themselves firmly in the earth between the city and the fords over the Ure , where three of them, still called "The Devil's Arrows," may be seen at this day.

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