"You are a noble fellow," said I, "and a credit to Cheshire. Will
you have sixpence to drink?"

"Thank you, Measter, I shall stop at Pulford, and shall be glad to
drink your health in a jug of ale."

I gave him sixpence, and descended the hill on one side, while he,
with his team, descended it on the other.

"A genuine Saxon," said I; "I daresay just like many of those who,
under Hengist, subdued the plains of Lloegr and Britain. Taliesin
called the Saxon race the Coiling Serpent. He had better have
called it the Big Bull. He was a noble poet, however: what
wonderful lines, upon the whole, are those in his prophecy, in
which he speaks of the Saxons and Britons, and of the result of
their struggle -


"A serpent which coils,
And with fury boils,
From Germany coming with arm'd wings spread,
Shall subdue and shall enthrall
The broad Britain all,
From the Lochlin ocean to Severn's bed.

"And British men
Shall be captives then
To strangers from Saxonia's strand;
They shall praise their God, and hold