“‘Pray, good friend,’ said he, pulling off a little black bonnet, ’be compassionate enough to help us with our load to the hill-top.’  Now was I terrified beyond measure, insomuch that I made a desperate tug, whereby loosening myself, I ran like the wind, the wicked fiends following and roaring after me with loud and bitter curses.  I jumped into the river, in my hurry having missed the ford, and I heard ’em still shouting, and, as I thought, pursuing me; but the Virgin and St Chadde were my helpers, for when Biddy opened the door in the morning, I lay there in a great swoon, with my head bruised, and a hole in my good grey cloak.”

“And so thou comest here a-boasting of thy drunken discoveries,” said the Thane.  “Thou shalt wish thou hadst not gotten thee so soon from the fiend’s clutches.  A spice of old Nicholas’ vocation may not be amiss; yet, by way of relish to thy tale”——­

The agony of the culprit was loud and appalling, but the chief was inexorable, until his denunciations were interrupted by a stranger, who craved a short respite for the groaning supplicant.

He was meanly clad:  a coarse cloak, stained and threadbare, was thrown open, showing a close habit of the most ordinary fabric; yet a natural and graceful bearing imparted a dignity even to his poor and worthless habiliments.

“I am a stranger, and sore oppressed with long travel.  Penury and misfortune have been my lot, and I am driven from place to place without a home or a morsel of bread.  Last night, long after the curfew, I came hither, but no hospitium or religious house being near, I sat down by the hill-side yonder, until morning should enable me to crave help for my hopeless journey.  The morning had not dawned ere I awoke—­a loud trampling, and a rush of many voices had broken in upon my slumbers.  I beheld crowds of strange-looking men, laden with terrific burdens.  They seemed to be eagerly and earnestly at work, under heavier loads than I thought mortal man could sustain; the whole space too, as far as the eye might carry, seemed alive with them, the flickering of their torches forming a scene of almost unimaginable splendour.  Right before me were a number of these labourers, hauling up a heavy beam from the river; others were apparently crossing, laden with materials no less bulky and intractable.  All were in motion, wriggling along like so many ants on a hillock.  The party just before me stayed immediately below where I sat, watching their proceedings with no little curiosity and amazement.  They threw down their load,—­then pausing, appeared to view with some hesitation the steep bank above them.  The foremost of the group now came softly towards me.  Pulling off his bonnet, with a grave and beseeching aspect he craved help to accomplish the ascent.  Not then dreaming of goblins and their deceitful glamour, I put my shoulder to the work with a right good will; and truly it were a marvel to watch the tough beam, how it seemed to obey the