BY THE AUTHOR OF

66

"OUR VALLEY," THE FORTUNES OF HASSAN,"
"ROSEBUDS," ETC.

"How many among us at this very hour
Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves
By taking true for false, or false for true;
Here, thro' the feeble twilight of this world
Groping, how many, until we pass and reach
That other, where we see as we are seen."

Idylls of the King.

PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE
OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION APPOINTED BY THE
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.

BIBLIOTH!

OCT '981

LONDON: ODLEIAN

SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE;
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS;

43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET; 48, PICCADILLY;

AND 135, NORTH STREET, BRIGHTON.

NEW YORK: E. & J. B. YOUNG AND CO.

251 i 428.

ست

KING'S MARDEN.

K

CHAPTER I.

"Old decays but foster new creations,
Bones and ashes feed the golden corn,

Fresh elixirs wander every moment
Down the veins through which the live past
Feeds its child, the live unborn."

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

ING'S MARDEN church was the most remarkable object, not only in the group of villages known as the Mardens, but in the whole country round. Every child knew it by name, every boy in Wyndover town could point out the bright speck in the distance, which never failed to catch the last gleam of the setting sun, and tell you that yonder was Marden steeple.

High up on its lonely hill, apart from the houses

which clustered among the trees of the green slopes, the church of King's Marden was a wellknown landmark in the view. For many centuries a light burned on dark winter nights in its lantern tower to serve as a beacon to the weary wanderer seeking his homeward path through the shades of the forest which covered the plains below. But those days were past. The forest had disappeared before the advance of civilization, and scarcely a trace of its once dense growth was to be seen on the wide expanse of pasture and arable lands which spread from the foot of Marden Hill to Wyndover.

Yet still, owing to its secluded position and its distance from a town, King's Marden retained much of its primitive simplicity. Twenty years ago many of its inhabitants had never seen a railway, while few indeed had ever gone the length of placing their lives in jeopardy by travelling by train.

The cattle grazed peacefully in the meadows without being startled by the whizzing and smoke of the engine; and the grass was still green on the hiil-side, although the blue veins in every stone that was turned up clearly showed the treasures of iron ore that lay hidden under the rich loam. No wonder then that the traveller who penetrated into this remote Midland district looked with