There was nothing in the distant aspect of the boulder to attract attention. It was just such a mass as dozens of others all round. Nor, on closer inspection, might anything peculiar have been observed. It had an irregularly oblong form, about two or three feet long, and half as high. Ferns and herbage were grouped around it, the wood-sorrel clustered up its sides, and little patches of moss and lichen nestled in its crevices. And yet, withal, there was something about it that, ere long, riveted my attention. I examined it minutely from one end to the other, and from top to bottom. The more I looked the more did I see to interest me; and when, after a little labour, some portions of its upper surface were detached, my curiosity was abundantly gratified. That grey lichened stone, half hid among foliage, and unheeded by any human being, afforded me material for a pleasant forenoon's thought. Will my reader accept an expanded narrative of my reverie? I can almost anticipate a smile. "What can there be remarkable in such a grey stone, hidden in a wood, and of which nobody knows anything? It never formed part of any ancient building; it marks the site of no event in the olden time; it is linked with nothing in the history of our country. What of interest, then, can it have for us?" Nay, I reply, you are therein mistaken. It is, assuredly, linked with the history of our country--it does mark the passing of many a historical event long ere human history began; and, though no tool ever came upon it, it did once form part of a building that rose under the finger of the Almighty during the long ages of a bygone eternity. To change the figure, this boulder seemed like a curious volume, regularly paged, with a few extracts from older works. Bacon tells us that "some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." Of the last honour I think the boulder fully worthy, and if the reader will accompany me, I shall endeavour to show him how the process was attempted by me.