ly maimed and lamed, and
left to die. When Edwy the Fair (his people called him so, because he
was so young and handsome) heard of her dreadful fate, he died of a
broken heart; and so the pitiful story of the poor young wife and husband
ends! Ah! Better to be two cottagers in these better times, than king
and queen of England in those bad days, though never so fair!

Then came the boy-king, EDGAR, called the Peaceful, fifteen years old.
Dunstan, being still the real king, drove all married priests out of the
monasteries and abbeys, and replaced them by solitary monks like himself,
of the rigid order called the Benedictines. He made himself Archbishop
of Canterbury, for his greater glory; and exercised such power over the
neighbouring British princes, and so collected them about the King, that
once, when the King held his court at Chester, and went on the river Dee
to visit the monastery of St. John, the eight oars of his boat were
pulled (as the people used to delight in relating in stories and songs)
by eight crowned kings, and steered by the King of England. As Edgar was
very obedient to Dunstan and the monks, they took great pains to
represent him as the best of kings. But he was really profligate,
debauched, and vicious. He once forcibly carried off a young lady from
the convent at Wilton; and Dunstan, pretending to be very much shocked,
condemned him not to wear his crown upon his head for seven years--no
great punishment, I dare say, as it can hardly have been a more
comfortable ornament to wear, than a stewpan without a handle. His
marriage with his second wife, ELFRIDA, is one of the worst events of his
reign. Hearing of the beauty of this lady, he despatched his favourite
courtier, ATHELWOLD, to her father's castle in Devonshire, to see if she
were really as charming as fame reported. Now, she was so exceedingly
beautiful that Athelwold fell in love with her himself, and married her;
but he told the King that she was only rich--not handsome. The King,
suspecting the truth when they came home, resolved to pay the
newly-married couple a visit; and, suddenly, told Athelwold to prepare
for his immediate coming. Athelwold, terrified, confessed to his young
wife what he had said and done, and implored her to disguise her beauty
by some ugly dress or silly manner, that he might be safe from the King's
anger. She promised that she would; but she was a proud woman, who would
far rather have been a queen than