"Awestruck, the much-admiring crowd
Before the virgin vision bowed,
Gaz'd with an ever-new delight,
And caught fresh virtues at the sight."

EDWARD MOORÉ'S _Fables_.


On the 24th of June, in the year 708, merry crowds were thronging to
Vazon Forest. It was a lovely spot. The other portions of the island
were bare and somewhat rugged; here the humidity of the soil favoured
the growth of fine, vigorous timber. On the low ground flourished oak
and sycamore, torn and bent near the shore where the trees met the force
of the Atlantic gales, growing freely and with rich verdure where better
protected. On the higher slopes were massed beech, birch, and the sweet
chestnut which was even then domesticated in the island. Glades,
bursting with a wealth of flowers nurtured by the mildness of the
climate, penetrated the wood in every direction; streams bubbling up
from springs, and forming little cascades where their course was checked
by granite boulders, lent an additional charm. Towards the centre of the
forest these streams united to form a lake, or rather a natural moat,
surrounding an island in the midst of which stood a gigantic oak. This
was the only tree on the island; round it, at even distances, were
placed twelve stones, beyond which a meadow glittering with varied hues
extended to the surrounding water.

It was to this island that the holiday-makers were wending their way:
young men and maidens, and such elders as had vigour enough to traverse
the rough tracks leading from the interior. They were a small race,
lithe and active, with strong black hair and dark eyes now twinkling