The uncertain action of the League, the only thread which bound the world together; the threatening aspect of the Cymry and the Irish; the dread north, the vast northern forests, from which at any time invading hosts might descend on the fertile south--it all went before his eyes.
What was there behind the immense and untraversed belt of forest which extended to the south, to the east, and west?
Where did the great Lake end?
Were the stories of the gold and silver mines of Devon and Cornwall true?
And where were the iron mines, from which the ancients drew their stores of metal?
Led by these thoughts he twice or thrice left his labour, and walking some twenty miles through the forests, and over the hills, reached the summit of White Horse.

From thence, resting on the sward, he watched the vessels making slow progress by oars, and some drawn with ropes by gangs of men or horses on the shore, through the narrow straits.

North and South there nearly met.

There was but a furlong of water between them.
If ever the North came down there the armies would cross.

_There_ was the key of the world.