"Now mama," "Now auntie," cried half a dozen little voices at once, as
Mrs. Macdonald and her sister closed their books, and drew their chairs
close to the fire, on the following evening.
"One moment to collect my thoughts, dear children," said Mrs.
Macdonald, stirring the fire, and taking one of her shivering little
nieces on her lap, whilst Alfred secured his aunt's knee, seeing that
his accustomed place was occupied.
"The scene I shall describe to-night is laid in a hall, where tables
are spread for a feast: the preparations are certainly not so costly as
some we might see now-a-days; for instead of carpets, rushes are laid
on the floor; the walls appear to be made of wood, interlaced with
osiers; the windows are filled up, some with cloth, and others with
lattice work, instead of glass; there are no grates or fire-places;
nevertheless the table is covered with clean white linen, and each
person has a separate drinking horn, a mess of pottage, a wooden knife
and spoon; whilst on the wall are hung two or three wooden harps. The
entertainment seems to have been interrupted by the entrance of a wild
looking man, with whom he who appears to be a king is engaged in close
combat. The king holds the robber by the hair of his head; but the
latter contrives to plunge a dagger into the heart of his youthful
opponent."
There was a long pause after Mrs. Macdonald had ceased speaking, and
many were the whisperings between the young people.
"Give it up," cried Alfred, tired of the silence.
"It was a Saxon king, was it not, aunt?" asked Edward, a pale, quiet
boy, the eldest of the group.
"Quite right, my dear; and as you have guessed so soon, perhaps you
will try and puzzle me in your turn."
Edward blushed, and after a few minutes' hesitation, described the
following picture:--
"A king, surrounded by some of his officers, is seated in a large room;
his dress and the furniture of the apartment show more cleanliness than
luxury; brave, rough men are on bended knee before him; whilst their
attendants are bringing in wolves' heads, and laying them at the feet
of the king."
"Every one of them was obliged to bring three hundred heads yearly,
were they not?" said Mrs. Macdonald.
"Yes, aunt; I am afraid I cannot puzzle you."
When the subject was more clearly made known, Annie asked, "Are there
any wolves in Wales now, mama? I should be afraid to live there."
"No, my dear; as men have become more civilized, and the country more
full of people, these and other wild animals have been driven into
smaller spaces, until at last they have all been killed. This is not
only the case in England, but in other countries; where colonies are
spreading over formerly wild tracts of land, the wilder animals are
fast disappearing."
"I am glad of it," rejoined Annie, drawing closer to her mother's knee,
and looking round as if a wolf had been behind her.
"I will now describe a picture," said Mrs. Arabin. "At the gate of a
castle, situated in a country where the ground near the sea never
appears to rise into high hills, but spreads itself in undulating
downs, we see a mild-looking young man on horseback. His horse is much
heated; he wears a hunting-horn by his side, whilst thirsty dogs seem
to envy their master the cup he is putting to his lips. An elderly
woman, with sharp eyes, but a gracious smile on her face, has scarcely
withdrawn her hand after presenting her young visitor with the cup,
whilst a servant is at this moment plunging a dagger into the shoulder
of the fair-haired youth on horseback."
The subject of this description was exclaimed by many little voices as
soon as Mrs. Arabin had ceased to speak.
[Illustration: Canute and his Courtiers.]
Annie spoke next "of a king dressed in his royal robes, seated on the
sea-shore; he looks calmly and quietly at the waves, which roll one
over another in beautiful succession, splashing his face with their
silvery spray, and wetting his feet with their briny waters, whilst the
sea-weeds cling to his regal attire. The courtiers are eagerly
watching the waves, any thing but pleasure depicted in their
countenances, and they look very much afraid of getting wet. The king
is pointing with one hand to a mark set in the sand, over which the
ocean is proudly dashing."
"Oh, Annie! that is too easy," exclaimed Mary.
"Not at all," interrupted Mrs. Arabin, "if it teach us to remember the
lesson which the story is so well able to teach."
Mrs. Macdonald then proceeded to describe a scene where a haughty,
fierce-looking man is standing by an open grave, from which his
attendant soldiers are taking a body; the pale features of the corpse
appear to resemble those of the proud king, who points to his followers
to convey the body to the adjacent river. The bystanders are clothed
in loose dresses like a carter's frock, bound round the waist by a
belt, and only reaching to the knee; some have iron collars round their
necks; most of them are bare-headed, but a few wear fur caps over their
long hair, which, parted on the forehead, hangs down in straight locks
on each side of the face. Their beards are shaven on the upper lip,
and on the top of the chin; the rest long, clean and neat, divided in
the middle, hangs down in two points; their shoes come up very high.
"Is that really in English history?" asked Louisa.
"Yes, my dear, about 1035."
Edward rejoined, "Canute ascended the throne 1017--he reigned eighteen
years. I know, dear auntie."
Mrs. Arabin next began:--"My story is one which ought to lead us to
stop and reflect; it relates to a banqueting hall, where a king and a
wary-looking courtier are sitting together surrounded by attendants.
The king looks earnestly and reproachfully at the nobleman, to whom he
points with one hand, whilst the other is directed towards his own
breast. The courtier, with a proud, defying look, yet with a lurking
expression of conscious guilt, is raising a piece of bread to his
half-opened mouth."
None of the party seemed able to guess this story, and even Mrs.
Macdonald herself looked puzzled. Just then the door opened, and the
words "Please, ma'am, the nursery tea is ready," interrupted the
amusement for this evening.
Aunt Mary was then obliged quickly to tell, how that piece of bread
choked the ambitious man, who so wickedly exclaimed that he hoped the
next morsel might be his last, if he had ever intended any ill against
his king.
"Are not those dangerous sands off the coast of Kent supposed to mark
the possessions of this designing earl?" asked Edward.
"Yes, my love, and therefore I contend that the name should be spelt
with but one o, thus restoring it to its purer Saxon form."
1. Death of Edmund. A.D. 948.
2. Welsh tribute.
3. Death of Edward the Martyr. A.D. 979.
4. Canute. A.D. 1017.
5. Harold. A.D. 1035.
6. Death of Earl Godwin. A.D. 1041.