man, O King, seems to me, in comparison of that time which is unknown to us, like the swift flight of a sparrow through the room wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst storms of rain and snow prevail abroad—the sparrow, I say, flying in at one door and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry storm; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems justly to deserve to be followed.”

The result was that Coifi undertook to desecrate his gods, assuming sword and spear, and mounting a stallion, forbidden to priests. Great was the astonishment and awe of the people as the royal party rode towards the temple. As Coifi approached he brandished his spear, and hurled it into the building. As it clashed upon the floor an awful cry burst from the priests, but no dire catastrophe followed, and fire being applied to the temple, building and gods were alike consumed. The impotence of the pagan gods established, the conversion of the people rapidly followed, and the wise and good King reigned over a flourishing state for several years.

Unhappily, the virtues of the King and the affection of his subjects were no protection from misfortune, and the chequered life went down in ruin and defeat. Penda, the pagan King of Mercia, a wretch inured to crime, entered into a confederacy with Cadwalla, King of North Wales, and, after vowing to compass the destruction of all the Christians in the island, marched against King Edwin.

The royal Northumbrian was neither slow to mass his troops nor meet his arch-enemy; but the triumph that had so often attended his arms was not vouchsafed in this inauspicious hour; and when the terrible waves of battle rolled against each other at the village of Hatfield, near Doncaster, in the October days of 633, his throne and crown went down in the fierce storm, though brave men flung themselves before his banners, and struggled with the savage foe as long as life lingered in the hacked and bleeding frame.

Falling with honour in the van of battle, Edwin breathed out his life amidst the roar of the contending hosts, and so the day darkened ere the night closed on Christian Northumbria. By the King’s side fell his son, the gallant young Osfrid, and the slaughter of the defeated army being very great, a season of extreme depression ensued. Great as the confusion was, the dead King received the last melancholy offices, his head being buried in the porch of the church at York, and the Abbey at Whitby receiving his body.

In the year 655, when the winters of eighty years had bleached the head of the warlike and ferocious Penda, he again participated in a tremendous conflict which took place on the Field of Victory, or Winwidfield, on the northern bank of the Aire, near Leeds. The occasion of the war was as follows: Adelwald, King of Deira, was threatened by Oswy, King of Bernicia, and perceiving that he could only hope to retain his crown by compassing the ruin of that powerful monarch, he formed a league with the Kings of Mercia and East Anglia, and declared war against Oswy, who, dismayed by so powerful a coalition, strove, by every possible means, to avert the bursting of the storm. All his efforts proving futile, he humbled himself in fervent supplications for victory on the solemn eve of the impending battle, and recorded a religious vow that, in the event of his being delivered from his enemies, his infant daughter, Elfleda, should be devoted to the service of the Holy Church. While Oswy was buried in supplication the shrewd brain of Adelwald was busily revolving the position. Should Oswy be defeated, he would be at the mercy of his allies of Mercia and East Anglia, and his own destruction and the division of his kingdom might be anticipated. To obviate such a disastrous result Adelwald resolved to reserve his own forces, and leave his allies to deal with Oswy, when he might reasonably hope to secure his kingdom against the decimated army, or armies of the victor. On the morning of the 15th of November, the four Kings marshalled their forces, spearmen, and other variously armed infantry and cavalry; and Penda, animated and impetuous, his fiery spirit undimmed by the four score years that had passed over his head, rushed to the attack, and the clash of arms and tumult of war resounded over the field as the troops of Oswy nobly sustained the fierce assault. At this juncture, the crafty Adelwald, assured that the deadly game would be continued to the bitter end, began to retire his troops, and the Mercians, losing heart under the suspicion of his treachery, relaxed their efforts, and commenced a hasty and confused retreat. Penda and his numerous chieftains appealed to them, and strove to restore their broken ranks, but in vain. Oswy pressed them hard; smote them with fierce charges of cavalry, and with the rush of his serried spearmen bore down all resistance. The Kings of Anglia and East Mercia were put to the sword, and their armies decimated and scattered. Oswy, secured in the possession of life and throne, exulted in the signal victory which had blessed his arms. Amid the lifeless thousands that encumbered the sanguinary field, twenty-eight vassal chieftains of the highest rank had fallen with their Kings.

Oswy satiated his regal ambition by taking possession of the realms of his conquered adversaries, but he respected the crown of the crafty Adelwald, who retained the glittering bauble until his death, a few years later.

Before the Saxon monarchy had time to develope, the Danes visited the unhappy island with fire and sword. Coasting along the shores, interrupting the commerce, blocking up the mouths of the rivers, or penetrating far inland, their only mission to plunder and destroy, they proved a terrible curse to the nation, and brought the islanders to the verge of ruin and despair.

With the name of Penda, is associated that of a very opposite Prince, Alfred, King of the Northumbrians, as he is styled in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Alfred espoused Kyneburga, Penda’s daughter, by whom he had issue one son, Osred, who succeeded to the throne.

This talented Prince ascended the throne after many vicissitudes, and was slain at Ebberston on the 19th January, 705, and was buried in the church of Little Driffield. It appears that the country was being ravaged by a large body of Danes and Norwegians, and that Alfred pursued and engaged them, holding them to a desperate trial of arms for the whole of the short winter’s afternoon. The gloomy night was closing in on the dreadful scene, and the Northmen were breaking before the charges of the royal troops, when an arrow smote the King, and he fell in the front of battle. On the instant a Danish warrior charged the prostrate monarch, and, before a hand could be raised in his defence, wounded him in the thigh. In haste and confusion the wounded man was carried away from the scene of strife, and concealed in a cave until the invaders had retired, when he was borne to the castle of Deira-field, and every attention given to recover him from his wounds, but after a week of suffering he expired, to the regret of his subjects.

In the year 867, a great conflict for the sovereignty of Northumbria was maintained between Osbert and Ella, the former having been expelled from his throne and the latter elected thereto in his stead. At this unhappy juncture, the