River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine. Baron Edward Hugessen Knatchbull-Hugessen Brabourne

      These words having been pronounced by the toad with due solemnity, he again went through the apparently unnecessary, not to say unpleasant, process of spitting twice, after which he quietly subsided, and crept under a large root, with a view to a long nap, which might last for a day, a year, or a century, as the humour took him.

      Smith now set himself seriously to consider what should be done, and what was the exact meaning of the proverb. It was his earnest wish that the “detested reign” of the Boar should cease as soon as possible, but what the blending together of the blood of the slayer and the slain could possibly mean was an exceedingly hard puzzle, and one which he knew not how to unravel. As, however, he was bound to do his best to perform the task to the accomplishment of which he had pledged himself, he determined to sally forth from the forest and endeavour to seek the aid which the birds and beasts within it were unable to afford him. Accordingly, he marched back into society, which, if not precisely civilised, was somewhat different from that of the toads and other creatures who had for the best part of his life been his only companions. Had he lived some years later, there can be little doubt that his reappearance would have created considerable surprise, and his costume would have been in singular contrast with that of ordinary men. As, however, at that period of the island’s history, men wore very little costume at all beyond that which nature had bestowed upon them, this was no difficulty in the way of our hero’s return. Moreover, the education given him by the toads had been so vastly superior to that which he would have received at the hands of his fellow-men, that there was nothing strange, uncouth, or remarkable either in his speech or manners, which, in fact, contrasted favourably with those of the human beings whom he was likely to meet.

      In those days the villages were small and the dwellings comparatively few and far between. The country upon the borders of the forest presented a barren and miserable appearance, mainly in consequence of the extreme poverty of its inhabitants, who were deterred from the agricultural pursuits which they would otherwise have followed by the constant ravages of the cruel Boar. It was, therefore, a rare thing to see many people in that part of the country, and Smith, had he known it, would have been surprised at the number he saw as he strode forward on his way. As, however, he had been so long in the forest as to have forgotten the usual habits of the peasantry outside, he was not astonished at all, and saw without wonder that people were hurrying along in the same direction as himself from every quarter. It struck him as rather strange that they should all be going the same way, and, being desirous ol knowing the reason why, he took the not unnatural course of asking a peasant woman whom he overtook. “Do you not know?” she replied. “Are you a stranger in the country, not to have heard that the great Druidess Bertha sacrifices to-day on Ascot Heath?”

      “I knew it not,” returned Smith, and followed up his answer by an inquiry as to who the great Druidess Bertha might be. The peasant woman appeared to be quite shocked at his ignorance, but, with the gossiping propensity which occasionally besets the weaker portion of her sex, began instantly to impart to him all she knew and a good deal more.

      Bertha, it seemed, was a person whose origin was shrouded in mystery. She had been educated by the Druids, and brought up as a female priestess of that reverend society. Although still young, she was supposed to have attained to great sanctity, and was immensely venerated by the peasantry. One thing alone distinguished her from the other Druids, namely, her unconquerable objection to human sacrifice; and Smith found, on further inquiry, that to-day’s ceremony was to consist only of the slaughter of oxen and sheep, and the offering of corn and fruits to the deities, whose aid was to be once more invoked against the tyranny of the Great Boar of Windsor. The account which he had heard made our hero more than ever desirous to witness the ceremony and to see the Druidess, and he accordingly followed the crowd to the sacred heath upon which it was to take place.

      Ascot Heath was at that time somewhat different from its present condition. You remember, Brother Rhine, when you were last in England, what a sight we saw together in that celebrated locality. All London seemed to have emptied itself upon Windsor and its neighbourhood. The heath was thronged with excited crowds.

      Hundreds upon hundreds of carts, gigs, and carriages of every description crowded one upon the other, and you owned that Rhineland had nothing to equal our Ascot week. Very different was the condition of things at the time of which I speak. I need hardly tell you that there was no “grand stand” in those days; the “ring” was as yet unknown; “Aunt Sally” was not, and never a gipsy had as yet appeared in the country. But the heath was wide and wild, rough and rugged, a fit place for the enactment of any such strange rites as those which his companion had led Smith to anticipate. He pushed boldly forward until he reached a spot from whence he could view the ceremony.

On the very edge of the forest, beneath a gigantic oak, upon a piece of rising ground, stood a figure upon which he, in common with every one else around him, riveted his eyes with the most intense interest and attention. It was a woman of more than ordinary height, clothed from head to foot in white drapery, her hair failing loosely upon her shoulders, with a simple chaplet of oak-leaves over her forehead. Her features were such as impelled you to look a second time after you had once gazed upon her. Nobility was stamped upon her brow. Courage, truth, and every other virtue which ennobles those of mortal mould were imprinted upon the lineaments of that countenance. Erect she stood, gazing down upon the peasant crowd below; and while her right hand held the sickle with which she had been performing some of the mystic rites of her order, her left arm was far outstretched as she pointed in the direction of that part of the forest in which the mighty Boar had made his home.