The multitude, beholding it, concluded he was distracted. But he
lost no time, for as soon as he drew near the temple he profaned
the same, casting into it the spear which he held. And rejoicing
in the knowledge of the worship of the true God, he commanded his
companions to destroy the temple, with all its enclosures, by
fire."*

*Dr. Giles's translation of Ecclesiastical History.

One of the reasons why I have chosen this story out of Bede's
History is because it contains the picture of the sparrow
flitting through the firelit room. Out of the dark and cold it
comes into the light and warmth for a moment, and then vanishes
into the dark and cold once more.

The Saxon who more than thirteen hundred years ago made that
word-picture was a poet. He did not know it, perhaps, he was
only speaking of what he had often seen, telling in simple words
of something that happened almost every day, and yet he has given
us a picture which we cannot forget, and has made our literature
by so much the richer. He has told us of something, too, which
helps us to realize the rough life our forefathers lived. Even
in the king's palace the windows were without glass, the doors
stood open to let out the smoke from "the good fire in the
midst," for there were no chimneys, or at best but a hole in the
roof to serve as one. The doors stood open, even though "the
storms of snow and rain prevailed abroad," and in spite of the
good fire, it must have been comfortless enough. Yet many a
stray bird might well be drawn thither by the light and warmth.