131 



tion of bygone days to the men of other generations ; 

 and among these the gospel-beech, which stood at a 

 short distance from an ancient Saxon town, among the 

 beautiful beech woods of Gloucestershire, recalled to 

 mind that ages must have passed since that failing tree, 

 shadowed with its ample foliage the earth beneath. 

 Now time-worn and riven, hollow, too, yet throwing out 

 green leaves in the spring, it marked one of the ex- 

 tremities of the parish, in its retired coppice on the 

 rugged side of a wild common, while beside it a stream 

 gushed forth, and went leaping and sparkling into the 

 vale below. A variety of flowers grew round the well- 

 head of the stream, the primrose and the snowdrop, the 

 yellow daffodil and violet, all young, and fresh, and 

 lovely, as if in mockery of the time-worn tree. There 

 stood the parishioners, in their doublets, with heads 

 uncovered, while the priest recited a few appropriate 

 sentences from that holy book in which he loved to 

 instruct them. Playful children, too, were there, young 

 men and maidens, for on such occasions most of the 

 parishioners trooped forth, some because they loved 

 their pastor, and were glad to hear the sacred words that 

 proceeded from his lips; others because the walk was 

 pleasant, and to gather the early flowers of the year. 

 This custom, itself of great antiquity, was conjectured to 

 be derived from the Pagan feast of Terminalia, the 

 fabled guardian of fields and landmarks, and the pro- 

 moter of good fellowship among men. It was adopted 



