"So seems to me the life of man, O king," said an aged noble, "as a
sparrow's flight through the hall when you are sitting at meat in
winter-tide, with the warm fire lighted on the hearth, while outside all
is storm of rain and snow. The sparrow flies in at one door, and tarries
for a moment in the light and heat of the fire within, and then, flying
forth from the other, vanishes into the wintry darkness whence it came.
So the life of man tarries for a moment in our sight; but of what went
before it, or what is to follow it, we know nothing. If this new
teaching tells us something more certain of these things, let us follow
it."

Such an appeal could not but have a powerful effect upon his hearers.
Those were days when men were more easily moved by sentiment than by
argument. Edwin and his councillors heard with favoring ears. Not last
among them was Coifi, chief priest of the idol-worship, whose ardent
soul was stirred by the words of the old thane.

"None of your people, King Edwin, have worshipped the gods more busily
than I," he said, "yet there are many who have been more favored and are
more fortunate. Were these gods good for anything they would help their
worshippers."

Grasping his spear, the irate priest leaped on his horse, and riding at
full speed towards the temple sacred to the heathen gods, he hurled the
warlike weapon furiously into its precincts.

The lookers-on, nobles and commons alike, beheld his act with awe, in
doubt if the deities of their old worship would not avenge with death
this insult to their fane. Yet all remained silent; no thunders rent the