fish to the Abbey of St. Peter."

Next day King Sebert and the Bishop of London came to Thorney. There,
by the new church, with a salmon in his hand, Edric, the fisherman, was
waiting to tell his story. Did they believe it? How could they help
believing? for he showed them the marks of twelve crosses on the
church, and the traces of the sacred oil and of the candles which the
angels had held! There was nothing left for the Bishop to do but to
declare that the church had been well and truly consecrated.

These are the wonderful stories the monks used to tell of their abbey.
I suppose they loved it so much that they wanted people to think it as
old and as wonderful as it could possibly be.

But now we have come to real history which we know to be true. In 1042
Edward, called the {20} Confessor, became King of England. Englishmen
long remembered him and what he looked like; his hair and beard were
milky white, and his cheeks were red; he loved hunting and long
services in church; and his people believed that the touch of his hand
would heal the sick, and that God spoke to him in dreams and visions.

His father had been driven out of England by the Danes, and Edward had
grown up in Normandy; so it came about that he loved the Normans, who
were more courteous than the rude rough English. Yet I think he loved
England too, for we are told that he made a vow to St. Peter that if
ever he returned there in safety he would make a pilgrimage to the
saint's grave in Rome.

He did not keep this vow; his people would not let him, for they said,
"The journey to Rome is long and dangerous, and our King is very
precious to us. We cannot let him go." But a man, even if he is a
King, may not break a solemn vow, so Edward asked the Pope what he must
do, and the Pope answered, "Stay at home and rule thy people; yet, as
thou hast vowed to make a pilgrimage to Rome, do some other costly
thing instead. Build a new church, or rebuild an old one in honour of
St. Peter." And King Edward determined to rebuild the little church at
Thorney, or Westminster as we must now call it; for the thorns had long
since been cleared away, the sandy bank was no longer an island even at
high-water, and pleasant meadows lay on either side of the river.

For fifteen years the work went on; Edward was so interested in it, so
loved it, that he watched over and {21} cared for every part of it.
Now at last, at Christmas-time of the year 1065, the east en