of the Scots, and the people of North Wales,
he broke and defeated in one great battle,
long famous for the vast numbers slain
in it. After that, he had a quiet reign;
the lords and ladies about him had leisure to
become polite and agreeable; and foreign
princes were glad (as they have sometimes
been since) to come to England on visits to
the English court.

When Athelstane died, at forty-seven years
old, his brother EDMUND, who was only
eighteen, became king. He was the first of
six boy-kings, as you will presently know.

They called him The Magnificent, because
he showed a taste for improvement and
refinement. But, he was beset by the Danes,
and had a short and troubled reign, which
came to a troubled end. One night, when he
was feasting in his hall, and had eaten much
and drunk deep, he saw, among the company,
a noted robber named LEOF, who had been
banished from England. Made very angry
by the boldness of this man, the king turned
to his cup-bearer, and said, "There is a robber
sitting at the table yonder, who, for his crimes,
is an outlaw in the land—a hunted wolf,
whose life any man may take, at any time.
Command that robber to depart!" "I will not
depart!" said Leof. "No?" cried the king.
"No, by the Lord!" said Leof. Upon that
the king rose from his seat, and making
passionately at the robber, and, seizing him by
his long hair, tried to throw him down. But
the robber had a dagger underneath his cloak,
and, in the scuffle, stabbed the king to death.
That done, he set his back against the wall,
and fought so desperately that although he
was soon cut to pieces by the king's armed
men, and the wall and pavement were
splashed with his blood, yet it was not before
he had killed and wounded many of them.
You may imagine what rough lives the kings
of those times led, when one of them could
struggle, half drunk, with a public robber in
his own dining-hall, and be stabbed in
presence of the company who ate and drank
with him.

Then, succeeded the boy-king EDRED, who
was weak and sickly in body, but of a strong
mind. And his armies fought the Northmen,
the Danes and Norwegians, or the Sea Kings,
as they were called, and beat them for the
time. And in nine years Edred died, and
passed away.

Then, came the boy-king EDWY, fifteen years
of age; but, the real king, who had the real
power, was a monk, named DUNSTAN—a clever
priest: a little mad, and not a little proud and
cruel.

Dunstan was then abbot of Glastonbury
Abbey, whither the body of King Edmund
the Magnificent was carried, to be buried.
While yet a boy, he had got out of his bed,
one night (being then in a fever), and walked
about Glastonbury Church, whilst it was
under repair; and, because he did not tumble
off some scaffolds that were there, and break
his neck, it was reported that he had been
shown over the building by an angel. He
had also made a harp, that was said to play of
itself—which it very likely did, as Æolian
Harps, which are played by the wind, and are
understood now, always do. For these
wonders he had been once denounced by his
enemies, who were jealous of his favour with
the late King Athelstane, as a sorcerer, and
had been waylaid, bound hand and foot, and
thrown into a marsh. But, he got out again,
somehow, to cause a great deal of trouble yet.

The priests of those days were, generally,
the only scholars. They were learned in
many things. Having to make their own
convents and monasteries on uncultivated
grounds that were granted to them by the
Crown, it was necessary that they should be
good farmers and good gardeners, or their lands
would have been too poor to support them.
For the decoration of the chapels where they
prayed, and the comfort of the refectories
where they ate and drank, it was necessary
that there should be good carpenters, good
smiths, good painters, among them. For
their greater safety in sickness and accident,
living alone by themselves in solitary places,
it was necessary that they should study the
virtues of plants and herbs, and should know
how to dress cuts, burns, scalds, and bruises,
and how to set broken limbs. Accordingly,
they taught themselves, and one another, a
great variety of useful arts, and became skilful
in agriculture, medicine, surgery, and handicraft.
And when they wanted the aid of any
little piece of machinery which would be simple
enough now, but was marvellous then, to
impose a trick upon the poor peasants, they
knew very well how to make it, and did make
it many a time and often, I have no doubt.

Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey,
was one of the most sagacious and crafty of
these monks. He was an ingenious smith,
and worked at a forge in his little cell. This
cell was made too short to admit of his lying
at full length when he went to sleep—as if
that did any good to anybody!—and he used
to tell the most extraordinary lies about
demons and spirits, who, he said, came there
to persecute him. For instance, he related
that, one day when he was at work, the
devil looked in at the little window, and tried
to tempt him to lead a life of idle pleasure:
whereupon, having his pincers in the fire, red-
hot, he seized the devil by the nose and put
him to such pain, that his bellowings were
heard for miles and miles. Some people are
inclined to think this nonsense was a part of
Dunstan's madness (his head never quite
recovered the fever), but I think not;
for, I observe that it induced the ignorant
people to consider him a holy man, and that it
made him very powerful. Which was exactly
what he always wanted.

On the day of the coronation of the handsome
boy-king Edwy, it was remarked by
ODO, Archbishop of Canterbury (who was a