The path from the wood leads to a morass, and from thence to a ford, which, as the rains have abated, may now be passable.

When thou hast crossed the ford, thou wilt take care of thy footing up the left bank, as it is somewhat precipitous; and the path, which hangs over the river, has lately, as I learn, (for I seldom leave the duties of my chapel,) given way in sundry places.

Thou wilt then keep straight forward---" "A broken path--a precipice--a ford, and a morass!" said the knight interrupting him,--"Sir Hermit, if you were the holiest that ever wore beard or told bead, you shall scarce prevail on me to hold this road to-night.

I tell thee, that thou, who livest by the charity of the country--ill deserved, as I doubt it is--hast no right to refuse shelter to the wayfarer when in distress.

Either open the door quickly, or, by the rood, I will beat it down and make entry for myself." "Friend wayfarer," replied the hermit, "be not importunate; if thou puttest me to use the carnal weapon in mine own defence, it will be e'en the worse for you." At this moment a distant noise of barking and growling, which the traveller had for some time heard, became extremely loud and furious, and made the knight suppose that the hermit, alarmed by his threat of making forcible entry, had called the dogs who made this clamour to aid him in his defence, out of some inner recess in which they had been kennelled.