feeling weary, I thought of putting up at an inn, but was induced to
take a seat in a coach, paying sixteen shillings for the fare. At dawn
of day I was roused from a broken slumber and bidden to alight, and
found myself close to a moorland. Walking on and on, I at length reached
a circle of colossal stones.

The spirit of Stonehenge was upon me. As I reclined under the great
transverse stone, in the middle of the gateway of giants, I heard the
tinkling of bells, and presently a large flock of sheep came browsing
along, and several entered the circle. Soon a man also came up. In a
friendly talk, the young shepherd told me that the people of the plain
believed that thousands of men had brought the stones from Ireland, to
make a temple in which to worship God.

"But," said I, "our forefathers slaughtered the men who raised the
stones, and left not one stone on another."

"Yes, they did," said the shepherd, looking aloft at the great
transverse stone.

"And it is well that they did," answered I, "for whenever that stone,
which English hands never raised, is by English hands thrown down, woe
to the English race. Spare it, English. Hengist spared it."

We parted, and I wandered off to Salisbury, the city of the spire. There
I stayed two days, spending my time as best I could, and then walked
forth for several days, during which nothing happened worthy of notice,
but the weather was brilliant, and my health had greatly improved.

Coming one day to a small countryside cottage, I saw scrawled over the