When the Romans had left, and the Saxons taken possession, the first king of Northumbria was Ida, who, it is said, landed at Flamborough, and who first built the grand Castle of Bamborough, part of the original of which remains to this day. The first Christian king of Northumbria was Edwin. His life is a striking illustration of the assertion, "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth," for he was but three years old when his parent died, and all his early years were passed in exile, having been kept from the throne of which he was the lawful heir. After the battle, however, fought on the banks of the Idle, in Nottinghamshire, he was placed on the throne of Northumbria, a courageous and noble king. He, having heard that there had come to the land a missionary from Rome, who taught the people the principles of religion, sent for him to come to Northumberland, that he might judge for himself. The king loved Edilburga, the daughter of Ethelbert of Kent, who was a devoted Christian; but she declined to marry him, unless he became a Christian also. He replied that he was willing to embrace the religion, if, on examination, he found it worthy of his fealty. Paulinus, therefore, accompanied the queen. But the king could not hastily decide; and it was not until he had been saved from assassination, by a faithful servant rushing in between him and the knife that was to slay him, that he was brought to a decision. Even then, however, he would not forsake the old ways, nor lightly take upon himself new vows, until he had called a council of priests and nobles, to examine the merits of Paganism and Christianity. Coifi, the high-priest, declared that he was tired of serving the gods, since they had never done him any good, and if the new religion was likely to be any more beneficial, he would be glad to know something about it. The next to speak was one of the nobles, and the Dean of Westminster, in an interesting and instructive lecture, thus beautifully gives the counsel of this layman:--"You know, O king, how, when you sit at supper in your great hall in the winter, with your commanders and ministers around you, and a good fire blazing in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail outside, and the two doors are open at each end, sometimes it happens that a poor little sparrow flies in at one door, and immediately out at the other; but for the short space during which he is in the hall, he enjoys the light and warmth, and is safe from the wintry storms. The swift flight of the sparrow from one darkness to another darkness, but with this brief intervening space during which we see him, is like to the life of a man. What the life of man was, before he came upon this earth, and what it is to be afterwards, we know not. All that we know is, what we see of him during the time that he is here. If, then, this new doctrine can tell us something more of whence and whither man comes and goes, it is worth while to listen to