ship,
and two bracelets, which he took from his own arms. Edred also
followed their example.

In the year 995, the Danish pirates again compelled the monks of
Lindisfarne to leave their resting place, taking with them the precious
relics of their saint. They sent to Ripon, where they remained for a
few months, and then were making their way back when, as they said, in
a certain fertile spot, the body became immovable.

Not knowing what to make of this they held a solemn fast, and, on the
third day, the saint communicated his wish that they should go to
Dunholme, where a permanent church should be built for him. There,
accordingly, they went; first erecting a temporary booth to contain
their treasure, and afterward building the first Durham Cathedral.[1]

The remains of St. Cuthbert were then enclosed in a costly shrine, and
placed in the Cathedral, where they remained until the Reformation.

In 1827, the grave was opened, when, in the innermost of three coffins,
his skeleton was found, wrapped in five robes of embroidered silk, some
of the fragments of which may still be seen in the Cathedral library.

A cloth, which it is said he used in celebrating mass, was made into a
standard, which was believed to bring victory. That gained at Flodden
Field was ascribed to it. The banner is said to have been burnt by the
sister of Calvin, who was the wife of the first Protestant Dean of
Durham Cathedral. No one in our day can read of all the wonders
ascribed to St. Cuthbert without incredulous and pitying smiles; and it
is very amusing to see how one of his peculiarities has been avenged in
later times.

He was an intense woman hater, and his antipathy to the gentle sex was
so great, that he would not allow one of them to come near to him, and
scarcely tolerated their presence in the religious services which he
performed; and he actually built a chapel for them at the extreme end
point of the Island of Lindisfarne, where they might worship, instead
of presuming to enter his church. He does not seem to have accepted of
any favours from them but one. Veria, who was Abbess of Tynemouth at
the time that he was at Lindisfarne, gave him a piece of fine linen or
silk, which he condescended to keep for his winding sheet. It was a
little too bad of him to keep up his antipathy even after his death;
but he seems to have done so, for until the Reformation no woman was
permitted to approach his shrine. A cross of blue marble w