es and Saxons the gospel of Christ. This country
dwelling, to which came Paulinus and his royal friends, was Ad-gefrin,
or Yeavering; and though it is extremely unlikely that any traces of it
could remain until our day, yet tradition points out a fragment of an
old building still standing there, as a remnant of the royal residence.

In the region of Kirknewton, a pretty little village to the north-west
of Yeavering, where Colledge Water joins the Glen, which gives its name
to the romantic district of Glendale, Paulinus baptised many hundreds of
Edwin's people; and the name of Pallinsburn--which is now confined to a
house at some little distance from the burn--enshrines the memory of
yet another scene of the labours of the indefatigable monk.

If we stand on the wind-swept top of Yeavering Bell, we are surrounded
by the evidences of still more remote days, for the whole of the summit
was once a fortified camp of the ancient Britons. A roughly-piled, but
massive wall, now almost all broken down, surrounded it, and within its
grass-grown oval are two additional walls, at the east and the west ends
of the enclosure, and many hut-circles, evidences of the rude dwellings
of our remote ancestors. Excavations here many years ago brought to
light a jasper ball, some fragments of a coarse kind of pottery, and
some oaken armlets. Evidently the enclosure on the summit was intended
to be a last resort in time of danger, for traces of many huts are to be
found outside its encircling wall, which is surrounded by a ditch and a
low rampart of earth. At the east end, where the porphyry crag juts out
from the hilltop to a height of about twenty feet, full advantage has
been taken of this naturally strong position.

Now, instead of advancing foes, the spreading heather climbs steadily up
the sloping sides of this ancient stronghold, and invades the central
enclosure at its will; a few hardy sheep that have wandered up here from
the richer pastures below, and now and again a stray tourist, anxious to
make acquaintance at first hand with one of the more famous of the
Cheviot heights, and more than satisfied with the glorious view spread
out before him, are all that disturb the brooding peace of its grassy
solitudes. Up here the wind blows keenly around us with an exhilarating
freshness in its breath, and we think regretfully of coats left behind
at the shepherd's hospitable dwelling, which, with the rest of the
cottages clustering round the