of all the country between the Wear and the Tyne, made by Guthred to the cathedral of St. Cuthbert, now transferred to Chester-le-Street.” Out of evil comes good,—a proof of God’s particular providence.[274] [Sidenote: 868 to 876.] But the atrocities of the Northmen at this period are most graphically described by the abbot Ingulf. After the destruction of Bardney, the pirates hastened to the monastery of Croyland. “It was midnight: the abbot Theodore and his monks had risen to matins when the enemy drew near: the younger brethren the abbot immediately commanded to seek a place of refuge, with their papers, relics, and jewels; while he himself, accompanied by the more aged monks, and some children, awaited whatever fate might be reserved for them. Perhaps he hoped that the grey locks of some, and the infancy of others, might awaken pity even in pagans. But they forgot, says Ingulf, the old verse, “Nulla fides pictasque viris qui castra sequuntur.” But he was prepared for any event,—to live or fall with his establishment. Having taken an affectionate leave of about thirty junior monks, he and his devoted companions returned to the church, finished the matins, and celebrated mass. They had just communicated when the pagans arrived, forced the gates, and rushed into the cloisters. The silence which they found might have induced them to believe the monastery was utterly forsaken, had not the distant chaunting of the monks fallen on their ears. They hastened to the church and burst into the choir; one chieftain instantly seized the abbot by the hair with his left hand, while the right severed the head from the body. The officiating clergy shared the same fate at nearly the same moment: the children and the aged monks were tortured for the purpose of discovering whither the treasures had been conveyed; but as the former were unable, and the latter unwilling, to disclose the secret, their sufferings were soon terminated by death. Of all these helpless inmates, one only was saved,—a boy ten years old, whose innocence made an impression on one of the chieftains. He had fled to the refectory with the sub-prior, whom he saw murdered, and whose fate he begged to share; but the chieftain tore the cowl from his head, threw a Danish cloak over him, and commanded him to follow him. The three succeeding days were passed in plunder,—in minutely examining every corner or crevice where treasure might be buried. The shrine of St. Guthlake was overthrown; the marble monuments around it, containing the mortal remains of saints and benefactors to the house, were opened, in search of rings, chalices, and other precious effects which the Saxons entombed with the bodies of the great; the bones were thrown on the ground, and the sculpture defaced. On the fourth day the extensive pile was on fire. Medeshamstede, or Peterborough, also an abbey of royal foundation, was next visited. Its noble library, its numerous treasures, which there had not been time to