ud
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 impulse. I worked with all the
might I could muster, but it appeared as though little were needful; and
in a trice we scrambled to the top, when the whole party scampered off,
leaving me to follow or not, as I chose. I saw something tossed towards
me, which glistened as it lay at my feet. Stooping, I found a silver
ring, beauteously bedecked with one glowing crystal. Round the rim is
formed a quaint legend, bearing a fair device, which some learned clerk
may perchance decipher."

The stranger drew from his finger a massy ring. A little ferret-eyed
monk, a transcriber of saints' legends and Saxon chronicles, was
immediately called. He pronounced the writing heathenish, and of the
Runic form. A sort of free translation may be given as follows:--

"The Norman shall tread on the Saxon's heel,
And the stranger shall rule o'er England's weal;
Through castle and hall, by night or by day
The stranger shall thrive for ever and aye;
But in Rached, above the rest,
The stranger shall thrive best."

Gamel was troubled and perplexed. The words were prophetic, evidently
pointing to his own and his country's fate, as well as to the destiny of
the stranger. He knit his brows, and his very beard