“Let us, however,” exclaimed Edmund, “learn why we are brought hither; let us follow the light, which ſeems to direct, our ſteps acroſs the gloomy hall.”
“Lead on,” replied the king.
A chill damp ſtruck them as they paſſed through the ſpacious hall, whoſe roof echoed to their ſteps. A narrow paſſage led from it to another apartment, in the midſt of which blazed a fire compoſed of the prodigious root of a tree, round which lay three blocks of unhewn ſtone.
At the upper end of this hall ſtood a rude kind of table, on which were placed cakes of flour, ſalt, and honey; and horns filled with an unknown liquor.
“Whither,” exclaimed the king, “does our deſtiny lead us? To what end are we tempted by the fight of proviſion, which, however urgent are our wants, we will not eat of? Already, doubtleſs, have they been offered to thoſe accurſed idols of which tradition ſpeaks, I fear, but too truly. Let us rather periſh with hunger, than taſte ſuch poiſonous viands.”
The walls of this apartment were compoſed of black ſtone, againſt which, immediately above the table, hung a ſuit of iron armour, of a ſize ſo prodigious, that it ſeemed formed when a race of giants inhabited the earth; on the helmet ſat a raven, which, as Edmund approached, ſeemed as though going to dart down upon them.
“Let us,” ſaid he, ſnatching up a flaming brand, “explore the wonders of this place.”
Three doors appeared beſide the one they had paſſed through, which alone was open; the others were too ſecurely faſtened to be ſpeedily looſened; and entering the paſſage, they were again in the hall, on whoſe walls were traced characters of odd, and to them, unknown form; on each ſide the gate roſe a pillar, which, dreadful to every feeling of piety and humanity, was compoſed of human ſkulls. From the top was ſuſpended a ſhield, a javelin, and other weapons, whoſe ſize ſeemed ſuited to the gigantic armour.
A deep and deadly horror ſeized the king of Scot-
