No sooner were they gone, than the Picts and Scots, like worms, which in the heat of mid-day, come forth from their holes, hastily land from their canoes, differing one from another in manners, but inspired with the same avidity for blood, and all, more eager to shroud their villainous faces in bushy hair, than to cover with decent clothing those parts of their body which required it. Moreover, having heard of the departure of our friends, and their resolution never to return, they seized, with greater boldness than before, on all the country towards the extreme north, as far as the Wall. To oppose them, there was placed on the heights, a garrison, equally slow to fight, and ill adapted to run away, a useless and panic-struck company, which slumbered away days and nights on their unprofitable watch. Meanwhile the hooked weapons of their enemies were not idle, and our wretched countrymen were dragged from the Wall, and dashed against the ground. Such premature death, however, painful as it was, saved them from seeing the miserable sufferings of their brothers and children. But why should I say more? They left their cities, abandoned the protection of the Wall, and dispersed themselves in flight more desperately than before. Whilst the enemy butchered them like sheep, they increased their own miseries by domestic feuds— They turned their arms upon each other, and for the sake of a little sustenance, imbrued their hands in the blood of their fellow countrymen. Again, in their distress, they applied to the Romans. In the address, entitled ‘The Groans of the Britons,’ our author represents them as saying:— The barbarians drive us to the sea, the sea throws us back on the barbarians: thus two modes of death await us, we are either slain or drowned. The Romans could not assist them, and, unwilling to assist themselves, they sought and obtained the help of those ‘wolves’, as Gildas calls them, the fierce and impious Saxons. The result is known to all—Celtic Britain became Saxon England—and England, with all its faults,—has it not been a blessing to the world? The picture drawn by Gildas of the misery of the southern Britons, and of the ravages of the northern barbarians, is doubtless correct; but, in ascribing the erection of the earthen rampart, and the stone wall of the LOWER BARRIER to the period of the departure of the Romans, he probably leans upon the erring traditions of his own times. His statement is devoid of probability. A work so bold in its design, so skilfully planned, and involving so much labour in its execution, cannot have been the result of the expiring energies of Rome in Britain. Its very ruins bespeak the masculine vigour of Rome’s maturity.