e ground; dragging his smooth young face through
ruts, and stones, and briers, and fallen leaves, and mud; until the
hunters, tracking the animal's course by the King's blood, caught his
bridle, and released the disfigured body.

Then came the sixth and last of the boy-kings, ETHELRED, whom Elfrida,
when he cried out at the sight of his murdered brother riding away from
the castle gate, unmercifully beat with a torch which she snatched from
one of the attendants. The people so disliked this boy, on account of
his cruel mother and the murder she had done to promote him, that Dunstan
would not have had him for king, but would have made EDGITHA, the
daughter of the dead King Edgar, and of the lady whom he stole out of the
convent at Wilton, Queen of England, if she would have consented. But
she knew the stories of the youthful kings too well, and would not be
persuaded from the convent where she lived in peace; so, Dunstan put
Ethelred on the throne, having no one else to put there, and gave him the
nickname of THE UNREADY--knowing that he wanted resolution and firmness.

At first, Elfrida possessed great influence over the young King, but, as
he grew older and came of age, her influence declined. The infamous
woman, not having it in her power to do any more evil, then retired from
court, and, according, to the fashion of the time, built churches and
monasteries, to expiate her guilt. As if a church, with a steeple
reaching to the very stars, would have been any sign of true repentance
for the blood of the poor boy, whose murdered form was trailed at his
horse's heels! As if she could have buried her wickedness beneath the
senseless stones of the whole world, piled up one upon another, for the
monks to live in!

About the ninth or tenth year of this reign, Dunstan died. He was
growing old then, but was as stern and artful as ever. Two circumstances
that happened in connexion with him, in this reign of Ethelred, made a
great noise. Once, he was present at a meeting of the Church, when the
question was discussed whether priests should have permission to marry;
and, as he sat with his head hung down, apparently thinking about it, a
voice seemed to come out of a crucifix in the room, and warn the meeting
to be of his opinion. This was some juggling of Dunstan's, and was
probably his own voice disguised. But he played off a worse juggle than
that, soon afterwards; for, another meeting being held on the same
subject,