Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Ancient England and the Romans
 Ancient England under the early...
 England, under the good Saxon,...
 England, under Athelstane and the...
 England under Canute the Dane
 England under Harold Harefoot,...
 England under Harold the Second,...
 England under William the First,...
 England under William the Second,...
 England under Henry the First,...
 England under Matilda and...
 England under Henry the Second
 England under Richard the First,...
 England under King John, called...
 England under Henry the Third,...
 England under Edward the First,...
 England under Edward the Secon...
 England under Edward the Third
 England under Richard the...
 England under Henry the Fourth,...

Group Title: child's history of England
Title: A child's history of England
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003527/00001
 Material Information
Title: A child's history of England
Physical Description: 2 v. : ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870
Tauchnitz, Bernhard, 1816-1895 ( Publisher )
Publisher: Bernhard Tauchnitz
Place of Publication: Leipzig
Publication Date: 1853-1854
Subject: History -- Juvenile literature -- Great Britain   ( lcsh )
Kings and rulers -- Juvenile literature -- Great Britain   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1853
Genre: non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: Germany -- Leipzig
Statement of Responsibility: by Charles Dickens.
General Note: Baldwin Library lacks vol. 2.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003527
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002225397
oclc - 02843632
notis - ALG5671
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Ancient England and the Romans
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    Ancient England under the early Saxons
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
    England, under the good Saxon, Alfred
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    England, under Athelstane and the six boy-kings
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    England under Canute the Dane
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    England under Harold Harefoot, Hardicanute, and Edward the Confessor
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
    England under Harold the Second, and conquered by the Normans
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    England under William the First, the Norman conqueror
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    England under William the Second, called Rufus
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    England under Henry the First, called fine-scholar
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
    England under Matilda and Stephen
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
    England under Henry the Second
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
    England under Richard the First, called the lion-heart
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
    England under King John, called lackland
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
    England under Henry the Third, called, of Winchester
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
    England under Edward the First, called longshanks
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
    England under Edward the Second
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
    England under Edward the Third
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    England under Richard the Second
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
    England under Henry the Fourth, called, bolingbroke
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
Full Text







IN t W 0 V 0 1L U M S.




I E began to B*l ended fn 0l and lasted S
1 .. b. bBeg 1 n 101 ended in 024 and Iosted W I yt.
Th beign of a be iDn 00 ended In f41 and luated iT rI.

Te h. Bt ea i n 4l ended in 1 and lasted .7 yr.

Thc RelIn of Ce9Oto began 1 3038 ended Pin 31 and lasted 1B Yrn.
"e es ofi t arod a in 10B. ended n 0o and lasted M I,.
" R eign of ard-I beg in 100 ended at 104 and latad S yr
TUe ors..r.. brefas in T1 0..dod In 1044. snd tilted a yl,
Tb. Reign of flarold the Becond. and the Norm, Conquest, .wO
also within tue year J0,0.

ThoReign of Wtifla
tbbFirt, l4ite bhgaIn *1 OMO..nded in loT. and listed Sl wa.
Onaneror a.
Thowtelpn o naWlt
The eo'nd f l.aI begn 3T..dla ls .ndld IInlO..ndlstdIn.
RHf -. .t
Tht Reiin or Hir
the irt wlme bfan i 100Ho.andd in MSa. nd lasted M vw.
PJe-Bcholtar .
fTS Riwfl If Ma- began in 186 w*. ended in ISO edIato 0 yrr.

Th e Reiag = began in 114 .ende i in I .nd 1ste1d 1f Yl .
the on Head .

ecliedw DiSn "bega in I nO.teded In tsw.nd luated IT os.



Itf of hh bes. La s,*dad in 1974 a lasted M yrs.
The'Blgof award
the lr t, fldUtd ebgan a ITS. nddd In 1B? e[nd ma(ted f yrs-
Lonhankh 1
0 1 SL n d .(E .w. b egan W Tn d d s t oIn 4an i n and lasted S fr .
TbWeflonof Edward bean In Il.S1.ndid la 177. and lartedo yrs.

T ,Ee c..h. .4 bi In in 18 *nded In 3IW. ad lated S yr,.
Thb Reign of Henry
t1 .mrth. eafl=1 bgfan in JSn. .n*d4 In li. andm laited 1 yrs.
IInagbroke ,. .


CHAPTER 1. r,.
ANCOIET flOLffD AND THE OMANS, From 60 yea t-
for Chri, to the er of o N Loid 4 . .
the ear A totu e yeartL . . 1 I
8OLtAfo UfMlf TnWS Gof RAXOS ALFBnE fAl No-
WASD THE SXBDR. Froa the rYer S. W to fl yer" WI 22
hNGLB. From the year 04, to tha years . S
BWOLAD UXDER CAMUTE TM DAME. Prom t" year 101" .
o t ya r 108 . . 4
AND EDWARD THE CO2FESBOR. rrom 0ha yar IOlM. to
thel r oUS . . . 14
flOLflW UNDEm flamLn tfl 850o0, AS CON-
Iwmq.m" u ftan R*oxD Ta e10oM. "m coa 6

COOUOBRO. Prom the uear Jes, to the latr 10B 57
FUS Prom the ye 671. to th ear1 . 28

SCHOLAR. FPf the M L 1W, ttheyea Is B2

11a6, to a y 1 4 .. 108
NIGLAOD IDUOR EE RY r l 8FOOND. From ty flo .y
1z 6 to hela 1 . . .1

IOTa 119r0t. Fh r 11 to thep e a 0 187

7ear21li .tWt0"Y",r216 . . .taW
IGiAED UUDER BN3Y Twn Fr ER, om -h. rear lflt.
to the e 1 . . .
SHANt Frotm the year 12TI to lthe r 18O? . M

Ifft, t tt e yeaf 1r 37 T . . .
to the year 1TT . . .
n. 10 te year I . . .
LUOBROn.> Prom Mthe tar vlo, t0o ti er sla .

t year


Ir you look at a Map of the World, you will
seo, in the left-hand upper corer of the Eastern
Hemisphere, two Islands lying in the ea. They
are England and Scotland, and Ireland. Englaud
and Scotland form the greater part of these Islands.
Ireland is the next in size. The little neighboring
islands, which are so amll upon the Map as to be
mere dots, are chiefly little bits of Botland -
broken off, I dare say, in the corse of a grat
length of time, by the power of the restless water.
In the old days, a long, long wbile ago, before
Our Saviour was born on earth and lay asleep in
a manger, these Islands weni in the eane place,
and the stormy sea roared round them, just it
roar, now. But the sea was not alive, theo, with
great ships and brave sailor, sailing to and fom
all parts of the world. It was very lonely. The
Islands lay solitary, in the great expanse of water.
The foaming waves dashed agist their cliffs, and
the ebleaw over their forests; but the
winds and waves brought no adventurers to laa

upon the I lands, and the enaage Islanders knw
nothing of the rest of the world, and the rest ofthe
world knew nothing of thben
It is supposed that the Phomicians, who wee
an ancient people, famous for carrying on trade,
came in ships to these Islands, and found that they
produced tin and lead; both very useful things, s
you know, and both produced to this very hour
upon the sea-oast. The most celebrated tin mines
in Cornball are, still, close to the sea One of them,
which I have seen, s so close to it that it is hol-
lowed out underneath the ocean; and the minrs
say, that in stormy weather, whn they M e at work
down in that deep place, they can hear the noise
of the waves thundering abovo their heads. So,
the Phoonidans, coating about the Islands would
come, without much difficulty, to where the tin nd
lead were.
The Phmniaian traded with the Islanders for
thme metals, and gave the Islanders some other
usnll things in exchange. The Islanders were, at
1itt, poor savage, going almost naked, or only
dressed in the rough skins of boast, and training
their bodies, a other savages do, with coloured
earth and the jne of plants. But the Phavielans,
ailing over th the opposite coast of France and
Belgium, and saying to the people thee, "We have
been to those white clifs across the water, which
you can see in afe weather, and from that country,
hiceh is called Barran, we bring this tin and lead,"
tempted some of the French sd Belgiang to come
iser also. These people settledthemselvea on the

labth ontf England, whbih is now called Kanti
'aa, although they were a rough people too, they
taught the savage Britonw some uwefd tk &ad
inmproe that part of the Islands. It W probable
that other people cam over from Spain to Ireland,
and settled there
Thae, by ite little and little, strange be
mixed with the Islanders, and the savage Britone
grw into a wild bold people; almost avagex sti,
especially in the nteror of the country &ay fo
the sea whereithe foreign setters seldom went; but
hardy, brave, and strong.
The whole country was covered with forests,
and swamps. The greater part of It was ery ity
and cold. There were no od a, -n bridges, no
streets, no houses that you would think dserving
of the name. A town wa nothing but a collection
of strw-covered hut, bidden in a thick wood, with
a ditch all round, and a low wall, made of eami,
or the trunks of trees placed one upen ma r.
The people planted little or no corn, but lived
upon the lesh of their flenk ad atmtl. lway made
no coins, but nsed metal rings for money. They
were clever in baset-wok, a savage people often
rei and tiey could make a course kind of eoth,
and some vezr bad earthenwe. But in bulldtn
fortrese they were muoh more Ce r.
They made boat of bakework, coed with
the skins of animal but seldom, if vr, venttued
fr fom the rhore. They made swords, of oppr
mixed with n b t but, these wrd were of an wk-
waard shape, and so soft that a heavy blow would

a CHeLmn's mOfrly Ov fG&n&D.

bend one. They made light shields, short pointed
daggers, and spear -which they jerked back ftr
they had thrown them at an enemy, by along strip of
leather fastened to the stm. The butt-end was a rattle,
to frighten an enes y's horse. The ancient Briton,
being divided into as many as thirty or forty tribes,
eah commanded byit ow little King, were constantly
fighting with one another, savage people usually
do; and they always fought with these weapons.
They were very fond of horses. The standard
of Kent was the picre of a white horse. They.
could break them in and manage them wonderfully
well. Indeed, the horses (of which they had -a
abundance, though they were rather small) were so
well taught in those d th daey can scarcely
be sald to have improved since; though the men
are so much wiser. They understood, and obeyed,
every word of command; and would stand still by
themselves, in all the din and noise of battle,
while their masters went to fight on foot The
Britons could not have Eucceeded in their most
remarkable art, withotthe aid of these senible
and trusty nimal* The art I mean, Ts the on-
truction and management of war-chariots or ers,
for which they have ever been celebrated in history.
Eash of the best sort of these chriots, not quite
breast high in front, and open at the back, con-
taned one man to drive, and two or three others to
fight- al standing up. The horses who drew them
were so wl trained, that they would tear, at fal1
gallop, over the most stony ways, and even through
the woods; daahing down their masters' enemiea

beneath their boofs, and cutting them to piecs
with the blades of swords, or esythes, which were
fastened to the wheels, and stretched ot beyond
the car on each side, for that cruel purpose. I a
moment, while at full speed, the horses would stop,
at the driver'e command. The men within wontd
leap out, deal blows about them with their swords
like hail, leap on the horses, on the pole, spring
back into the chariots anyhow; and, as soon a
they were safe, the horses tore aay again,
The Britons had a strange and terrible religion,
called the Religion of the Dmride It seemr to hav
been brought over, in very early times indeed, from
the opposite country of France, anciently called
Gaul, and to have mixed up the worship of the
Berpent, an f the d o the and Moon, ith the r-
ship of some of the Heathen Gods and Goddesses.
Most of its ceremonies were kept secret by the
priests, the Druids, who pretended to be enchanter
and who carried magicians' wands, and wore, each
of them, about his neck, what he told the ignorant
people was a Berpent's egg in a golden ese. -Blut
it is certain that the Druidical ceremonies included
the saariiee of human victims, the torture of somae
suspected crminals, and, on particular occasions,
even the bnuning alive, in immense wicker egae,
of a number of men and animals together. The
Druid Priests had some kind of veneration br the
Oak, and for the miaeltoe the same plant tha
we hang up in houses at Christmas Tim now -
when its white berries grew upon the Oak hey
met together in dark woods, which they called

Bred (rove; and there they insmoUted, in their
mysterious, rtsu young men who came to them as
pupils, and who sometimes stayed with them as
long a twenty years.
These Druids built great Temple and altars,
open to the sky, of which some are yet remaining.
Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain, in Wiltshire, is the
most extraordinary of these. Three onuins stone,
called Kite Coty House, on Bluebell Hill, near
Maidstone, in Kent, form another. WOenow, from
exaimintion of the great blocks of which such build
ings are made, that they could not have been raised
without the aid of some ingenious machines, which
me common now, but which the ancient Britons
certain y did not se in making their own unorn-
fortable houses. I should not wonder if the Druids,
and their pupils who stayed twenty years, knowing
more than the rest of the Britons, kept the people
out of sight while they made these buildings, and
thel pretended that they built them by magio~ Per-
haps they had a hand in the fortresses too; at all
events, a. they were very powerful, and very much
believed in, and as they made and executed the
laws, and paid no taxes, I don't wonder that they
liked their trade And, as they persuaded the
people that the more Druids there were, the better
of the people would be, I don't wonder that there
were a good many of them. But it is ploeasat to
ink that there are no Druids, now, who go on in
that way, and pretend to cy Enchanters' Wands
aed Serpents' FZgs and of course there is no-
thing of the kin, any where.

Buch was the improved condition of the auelbnt
B rton f ty-Aiv years before the birth of Ow
BSvioMr, when thebB&m&t under their great Gner4t,
Julis Caesar, waee master of all the rest of the
kuown world, Julius Caer had then just conquered
Gaul; and hearing, in Gaul, a good deal about the
opposite Island with the white eliff, and about the
bravery of the Britons who inhabited it some of
whom had been fetched over to help the Gauls in
the war against him he resolved, as he was so
near, to come and conquer Britain neot
So, Julius C esarc me sailing over to this Iland
of ours, with eighty vessels and twelve thousand mne
And he came from the Freach coast between Calais
and Boulogne, "because thence was the shortest
passage into Britain;" just for the same reason a
our steamboats now take the same track, every day.
He expected to conquer Britain easily: but it was
not such easy work as he supposed for the bald
Britons fought most bravely; and, what with not
having his hore-soldiers with him (for they bad
been driven baac by a stonm), and what with having
some of his vessel dashed to piece. by a high tide
after tey were dramn ashore, he ran great risk of
being totally defeated. However, for once that the
bold Britons beat him, he beat hem twice; though
not so soundly but that he was very gled to secept
their proposals of peace, and go away/
But, in the spring of the next yer, he Came
back; this time, with eight hundred vessels and
thirty thousand men. The British trbes chose,
their general-dm-cief, a Briton, whom the Romare

In their Lain language called CAssivnavaos, but
whose British name is supposed to have been
CASwALOm. A brave general he was, and well he
and his soldiers fought the Roman armyl So wall,
that whenever in that war the Roman soldiers saw
a great cloud of dust, and heard the rattle of the
rapid British chariots, they trembled in their hearts
Besides a number of smaller battles, there was a
battle fought near Canterbury, in Kent; there was
a battle fought near Chertsey, in Surrey; there wa
a battle fought near a marshy little town in a wood,
the capital of that part of Britain which belonged
to OCAbssXr Us, and which was probably near
what is now Saint Albans, in Hertfordsalre. How-
ever, brave CASorvarntAneu had the worst of it, on
the whole; though he and his men always fought
like ions. As the other British chiefs were jealous
of him, and were always quarreling with him, and
with one another, he gave up, and proposed peace.
Jnulis Cmer was very glad to grant peace easily,
and to go away again with all his remaining ships
and men. He had expected to find pearls in Britain,
and he pavytrav found a few for anything I know;
but, at al events, he found delicious oysters, and
I a sure he found tough Britons- of whom, Idare
say, he mtde e the same complaint as Napoleon Buent-
parts the great French General did, eighteen hbn-
dred years afterwards, when he said they were such
unreasonable fellows that they never knew when
they were beaten. They never did know, I believe,
and never will.
Nearly a hundr y ed e passed o, and all that

time, there was peace in Britain. The Britans im-
proved their towns and mode of life: became more
ivilised, travelle and eat a great deal from
the Gands and Roman. At last, the Roman Em-
peror, Clandine, sent AULs PLAuv S, a skilful
general, with a mighty force, to subdue the TIland,
and shortly afterwards arrived himeel. They did
little; and OsTonmUB SoArJLA, another general,
came. Some of the British Chiefs of Tribes sub-
mitted. Others resolved to fight to the death.- Of
these brave men, the bravest was COnAoAcc, or
C nAo, who gave battle to the iomans, with his
army, among the mountains of North Wales. This
day," said he to his soldiers, "decides the fate of
Briteain Your liberty, or your eternal slavery, date
from this hour. Remember your brave ancestors,
who drove the great Cmear himself cross the seal"
On hearing thesewords, his men, with a great shout,
nushed upon the Romans. But the strong Ron m
swords an a armour wore too much for the weaker
British weapons in close conflict The Britone lost
the day. The w4fe and daughter of the brave
CAnAsoTCUS were taken prisoners; his brothers de-
livered themimsup he elf was betrayed into
the hands of the Romans by his false and bass step-
mother; and they carried him, and all his family,
in triumph to Rome.
But a great man will be great in misfortune,
great in prison, great in chains. Hie noble ar,
and dignified endurance of distress, so touched the
Romay people who thronged the staeetm to ee him,
that he and his family were restored to fieedom

No one knows whether his great heart broke, and
he died in Rome, or whether he ever returned to
his own dear country. English oaks have grown up
from acorn, and withered away, when they were
hundred of yes of years old- and other oaks e prng
up in their places, and died too, very aged-smnce
the rest of the history of the brave CA*TowVS
"ws forgotten.
till, the Britons would not yield. They rose
again and again, and died by thousands, sword in
hand. They rose, on every possible occasion.
Sroronzoa, another Roman general, came, and
stormed the Island of Anglesey (then called RoxA)
which was supposed to be sacred, and he burnt the
JDrids in their own wicker cases, by their on
fire. But, even while he was in Britain, with his
victorious troops, the BarTrom rose. Betanse BsA-
IOBA, a British queen, the widow of the King of the
Norfolk and Suffolk people, reesited the plundaing
of her property by the Romans who were settled in
England, she ws scourged, by order of CAtuS,
ar oman offier; and her two daughters were shame
folly insulted in her pres her presence and her usbad's
relations wee mde slaves. To avenue this injury,
the Britons rose, with all their might and rage*
They drove OATus into Gaul; they laid the Roman
posasessons waste; they forced the Romans out of
London, then a poor little town, but a trading
place; they hanged, burnt, oracied, and slew by
the word, seventy thousand Romans n a few days.
SUTOrrom strengthened hl army, and advanced to
give the battle. They strengthened their army,

ARaOI3T O O4aA&W:aK' AfD seUan. 11
and desperately t#ao his, on the field where i
was strongly posted. Before the fst charge of the
Britons was made, BoAOHAn, in a war-earot
with her fair hair string in the wind, and her
injured daughters lying at her feet, drove aBoang
the troops, and cried to them f.r vengeance on their
oppressors, the licentious Romans. The Briton
fought to the lst; but they were vanquished-with
great slaughter, and .the unhappy queen took
Still, the spirit of the Britons was not broken.
When SunBo oaa left the country, they foll upon
his troops, and retook the Island of Anglesey. The
Emperor AGCOLAo came, Steen or twenty years
fterwards, and retook it once more, and devoted
seven years to subduing the county, especially that
part of it whih is now called SooTlan D; but, i
people, the Caledonian, resisted him at every inch
of ground They fought the bloodiest battles with
him; they killed their very wives and cildr, to
prevent his king prisoners of them they fell,
fighting, in such great number that certain hill in
Scotland are yet supposed to be vast heaps of stone
piled up above their grates. The Empero Hamran
came, thirty years afterwards, and still they resisted
bim. The lEmperor Savnus eosm nearly a hun-
dred yeas afterwards, and they worried his great
asay like dogs, and rejoined to see them die, by
thousands, in the bogs and swamped C CAOAeA.
the son and successor of Sbvaus, did the most to
conquer tfem, for a time; but not by force of arm
He knew how little that would do. He yielded up

a quantity of land to the Caledonlan, and gave the
Britone te same privileges as the Romans posseseed
There was peace, after this, for seventy years
Then new enemies arose. They were TSm BSos,
a fieree, searing people from the countries to the
North of the Rhine, the great river of Germany on
the banks of which the best grapes grow to ake
the German wine. They began to eome, in pirate
ships, to the sea coast of Gaul and Britain, and to
plunder them. They were repulsed by CAau ,was,
a native either of Belgium or of Britain, who was
appointed by the Romans to the command, and
under whom the Britons first began to fight upon
the sea. But, ater his time, they renewed their
ravages. A few years more, and the Scot. (which
was then the name for the people of Ireland), and
the Pit, a northern people, began to make frequent
plndering innursions into the South of Britain. A
these atteks were repeated, at intervals, during
two bhndred years, and through a long succession
of Roman Emperors and chiefs; during all which
length oftime, the Britons rose against the Romans,
over and over again. At last, in the days of the
Roman Emperor, Honoas, when the Roman
power all over the world waa fast declining, and
when Rome wanted all her soldiers at home, the
Roman abandoned all hpe of conquering Britain,
rand weSt waey. Ad stil, at last, a at first the
Britei rose against them, in their old brave man-
ner; for, a very little while before, they had turned
away the Roman magistrates, and declared them-
selves an independent people.

Five hundred years had passed, since Julius
OCsar's fot invasion of the Island, when the
Roman departed from it for ever. In the course
of that time, although they had been the cause of
terrible fighting and bloodshed, they had done mueh
to improve the condition of the Britons. They had
made great military road; they had built fort; they
had taught th them how to dres, and arm theelve,
much better than they had ever known how to do
before; they had refined the whole Britih way of
living. AoGRCOA had built a great wall of earth,
more than seventy miles long, extending from New-
eastle to beyond Carlisle, for the purpose of keeping
out the Piets and Soots; ]ann3D[ had strengthened
it; Svan e, finding it much in want of repair, had
built it afresh of stone. Above ll, it was in the
Roman time, and by means of Roman ships, that
the Christian Religion was fret brought into Britain,
and its people first taught the great lesson that,
to be good in the sight of Goo, they must love
their neighbour as themselves, and do unto others
as they would be done by. The Druids declared it
was very wicked to beliee any such thing, and
cseed all the people who did believe it, vey heartily.
But, when the people found that they were none
the better for the blessings of the Druids, and none
the worse for the nurse the Druids, but, that
the san shone and the rain fll without consulting
the Druid at all, they just began to think that the
Dmide were more men, and that it signified very
little whether they crsed or bleed After which,

the pupils of the Druide fell off greatly in numbers,
and the Drmids took to other trades.
Thfl I have come to the end of the Roman time
in England. It is but little that is known of those
five hundred years; but some rematns of thea ae
till found. Often, when laborers ae digging up
tre ground, to make fonndtions for hosea or
church, they light on rusty money that once be-
longed to the Romanrs Frangents of plate from
which they ate, of goblets from which they drank,
and of pavement on which they trod, aan discovered
among the earth that is broken by the plough, or
the dust that is crumbled by the gardener's spade.
Wells that the Romans sunk, still yield water;
roads th tth e Ronman made, form part of our high-
ways. In some old battle-ields, Britieh spem-
heads and Roman armear have been found, mingled
together in desty, a they fell n the thel pressure
of the fight Tracs of Roman camps 'drergrn
with grass, and of mounds that are the buridl-place
of heaps of Britmon, are to be seen in almost ail
part of the country. Across the bleak nmot of
Northnumberland, the wall of Savus, over-rn With
moss mad weeds, still stretch, a strong ruin; ad
the shepherds and their dogs He sleeping on H in
the cvmnmer weather.- On Sallsbury Plain, Stone
henge yet stands: a mom ent of tthe etHer tme
when the Roman name was unknown In Britain,
tad when the Druide, with thAir best magic wande,
tbald not have written it in the sands of the wild

easonsrr aGsAow Ama ws oatian.

C ilAPTrE I1
Tau Romans had coae ely gone awayfrom Bri-
tain, when the Britons began to wish they ha wrever
left it. For, the Roman soldiers being gone, ad
the Britons being much reduced in number by their
long wara, the Piets and Scots came pouring in,
over the broken and unguarded wall of Sarmaes,
in swarms. They plundered the richest teown, and
Tilled the people; and came back so often for mare
booty and more slaughter,that the unfortnnatBritons
lived a life of terror. As If the Picut and Bfets
were not bad enough on land, the Saxons attached
the islander by sea; and, a if something more
wre stil wang to make them miserable, they
quarrlled bitterly among themselves a to what
pre"a they ought to say, mad how they ought to
syeahem. The priests, being vem angry with one
another oe these questions, cred one another in
thr heartl et manner; and (uncommonly M&e the
old 'Druids) crsed all the people whom they codld
ait persde. So, altogether, the Brton were vary
badly of, you may belie.
They were in such distess, in short, thatthey
sent letter to Rome entreating help -whil they
called The Groans of the Britonm; and hI which
they said, "The barbarians chase as ntosthe sea,
the e throws n back upon the barbariam, and

we have only the hard choice left us of perilhing
by the sword, or perishing by the wave" But, the
Romans could not help them, even if they were o
inclined; for they bad enough to do to defend them-
selves against their own enemies, who were then
very fierce and strong At last, the Britons, unable
to bear their hard condition any longer, resolved
to make peace with the Saxons, and to invite the
Saxons to oto oe io their country, and help them
to keep out the Piste and oSota.
It was a British Prince named VonTrxon who
took this resolution, and who made a treaty of
friendship with HUIorsT and Hono; two Saxon
chief. Both of these names, in the old Saxon
language signify Horse; for the Saxons, like many
other nations in a rough state, were fond of giving
men the names of animal, as Horse, Wolf, Bear,
Hound. The Indians of North Ameria,- a very
inferior people to the Saxons, though do the same
to this day.
HfawroT and HOnSA drove out the PiMta and
soota; and Vonwrzoa, being grateful to them for
that service, made no opposition to their setting
themselves in that part of England which is called
the Isle of Thenet, or to their inviting over more
of their countrylnme to join them. But H]Mws had
a beautiful daughter named RoWni; and when,
at a feast, she fled a golden goblet to the brim
with wine, and gave it to VOTIasn, saying in a
sweet voice, "Dear King, thy health" the king
fell in love with her. My opinion is, that the acn-
ning HawoarT meant him to do so, in order that

AOIwar tispA)mn mapanSC anBAm4 SXOns. 11
the Sarona might hvq greater hInluence with him;
and that the fair RowmsA came to that feast, golden
goblet and all, on purpose.
At any rate, they were married; and, long ater-
wards, whenever the king was angry with the Saxons,
or jealous of their eneroahmenta, RowmhA would
put her beautiful arms round his neck, and softly
say, "Dear king, they are my people Be favourable
to them, as you loved that Baxon girl who gave you
the golden goblet of wine at the feast" And, reHly,
I don't see how the king could help himself.
Ahl We must all dial In the course of years,
VownIeun1 died he was dethroned, and put in
prison, first, I am afraid; and RewmA died; and
generations of Bazons and Britons died; and events
that happened during a long, long time, would have
been quite forgotten but for the tales and songs of
the old Bardn, who used to go about from feast to
feast, with their white beards, recounting the deeds
of their forefathere. Among the histories of whieh
they sang and talked, there was a famous one,
concerning the bravery and virtues of KNG ARTHUR,
supposed to have been a British Prince in those old
times. But, whether ech a person really lived, or
whether there were several persons whose histories
came to be confused together under that one name,
or whether all about him was invention, no one
I will tell you, shortly, what is most interesting
in the early Saxon times, oa they are described in
these songs and stories of the Bards.
In, and long after, the days of Vo ~Tean,
1. 2 I

fresh bodies of Sax0on, under various coblef, came
pouring into Britain. One body, conquering the
Britons in the East, and settling there, called their
kingdom Essex; another body settled in the West,
and called their kingdom Wessex; the Northfolk,
or Norfolk people, established themselves in one
place; the Soutfolk, or Suffolk people, established
themselves in another; and gradually seven king-
dome or states arose in England, which were called
the Saxon Heptarchy. The poor Britons, falling
back before these crowds of fighting men whom they
had innocently invited over as friends, retired into
Wales and the adjacent country; into Devonshire,
and into Cornwall. Those parts of England long
remained unconquered. And in Cornwall now -
where the sea-coat is very gloomy, steep, and
rugged where, in the dark winter-time, ships
have been often wrecked close to the land, and
every soul on board has perished where the winds
and waves howl drearily, and split the solid rocks
into arches and caverns there are very ancient
ruins, which the people call the ruins of KnYG At-
Vrafn'S Castle.
Kent is the most famous of the seven Saxon king-
dome, because the Christian religion was preached
to the Saxons there (who domineered over the Britons
too much, to eare for what hey said about their
religion, or anything else) by AUOaSTrX, a monk
from Rome. KmOI ETHnEaERT, of Kent, was Soon
converted; and the moment he said he was a Christian,
his courtiers all said y were Christians; after which,
ten thousand of his subjects said they were Christians

too. Atnrsim built a little church, close to this
kin's palace, on the ground now occupied by the
beautiful cathedral of Canterbury. StBaR, the king's
nephew, built on muddy marshy place near London,
where there had been a temple to Apollo, A church
dedicated to Saint Peter, which is now Westminster
Abbey. And, in London itself, on the foundation
of a temple to Diana, he built another little church,
which has risen up, since that old time, to be Saint
After the dethh of ETnMnLBn', EDWIn, King
of Northumbria, who was such a good king that it
was said a woman or child might openly carry a
purse of gold, in his reign, without fear, allowed
his child to be baptised, and held a great rouneil
to consider whether he and his people should-al be
Christians or not It wa decided that they should
be. CorI, the chief priest of the old religion, made
a great speech on the occasion. In this discourse,
he told the people that be had found out the old
gods to be impostors. "I am quite satisfied of it,"
he said. "Look at me I have been serving them
all my life, and they have done nothing for me,
whereas, if they had been really powerful, they
could not have decently done less, in return for all
I have done for them, than make my fortune. As
they have never made my fortune, I am quite con-
vinced they are impostoral" When this sigular
priest had finished speaking, he hastily aimed
himself with sword and lance, mounted a war-horse,
rode at a furious gallop in sight of all the people
to the temple, and flung his lance against it as an

A cfE.LD's t flmsRr rOP aWOLAD.

Insult. From that time, the Christian religion spread
itself among the Saxons, and became their faith. I
The next very famous prince was EowouT.
He lived about a hundred and fifty years after
wards, and claimed to have a better right to the
throne of Wessex than BMonITRI, another Saxon
prince who was at the head of that kingdom, and
who married EDBUHRA, the daughter of OreA, king
of another of the' seven kingdoms. This QuEmn
EnDBUIA was a handsome murderers, who poisoned
people when they offended her. One day, she mixed
a cup of poison for a certain noble belonging to
the court; but her husband drank of it too, by mis-
take, and died. Upon this, the people revolted, in
great crowds; and running to the palace, and thnn-
dering at the gates, cried, "Down with the wicked
queen, who poisons men!" They drove her out of
the country, and abolished the title she had dis-
graced. When years had passed away, some tra-
vellers came home from Italy, and said that in the
town of Parvi they had seen a ragged beggar-
woman, who had once been handsome, but was
then shrivelled, bent, and yellow, wandering about
the streets, crying for bread; and that this begga
woman was the poisoning English queen. It was,
indeed, IEnnlon; and so she died, without a shelter
for her wretched head.
Eoe, nT not considering himself safe in Eng-
land, in consequence of his having claimed the
brown of Weasem (for he thought his ival might
take him prisoner and pat him to death), sought
reftbe at the court of CrAnttnNB, Kin of France.

On the death of BnonR.T so unhappily poisoned
by mistake, Eoenn came back to Britain; sue-
eeded to the throne of Wessaex conquered some
of the other monarchs of the sver kingdoms; added
their territories to his own, and, for the first time,
called the country over which he ruled, EsxnAnD.
And now, new enemies arose, who for a long
time, troubled England sorely. These were the
Northmen, the people of Denmark and Norway,
whom the English called the Danes. They were a
warlike people, quite at home upon the sea; not
Christians; very daring and cruel. They cae over
in ships, and plundered and burned wheresoever
they landed. Once, they beat EGBnam in battle.
Once, EGonRT beat them But, they cared no more
for being beaten than the English themselves. In
the four following short reigns, of ETHnBLWUw, and
his three sons, ETwraBnA, ETXaLnRT, und ErTn-
Ea, they came back, over and over again, burn-
ing and plundering, and laying England waste. In
the last-mentioned reign, they seized EDMUn, King
of East England, and bound him to a tree. Then,
they proposed to him that he should change his
religion; but he, being a good Christian, steadily
refused. Upon that, they beat him, made cowardly
jests upon him, all defeneelesse M e was, shot
arrows at him, and, finally, struck off his head It
is impossible to say whose head they might have
struck off next, but for the death of KING EET oV
from a wound he had received in fighting against
them, and the succession to his throne of the best
and wiseat king that ever lived in England.


AZLFrn THE GnAT was a young man, three-
and-twenty years of age, when be became king.
Twice in his childhood, he had been taken to Rome,
where the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going
on journeys which they supposed to be religious;
and, once, he had stayed for some time in Paris.
Learning, however, was so little cared for, then)
that at twelve years old he had not been taught to
read; although, of the four sons of KIoG ErTm-
wvr, he, the youngest, was the favourite. But be
had ao most men who grow up to be great and
good are generally found to have had an ex-
cellent mother; and, one day, this lady, whose name
was Ossuaato, happened, as she was sitting among
her sons, to read a book of Saxon poetry. The art
of printing was not known until long and long after
that period, and the book, which was written, was
what is called "illuminated," with beautiful bright
letters, richly painted. The brothers admiring it
very much, their mother said, "I will give it to
that one of you four princes who frt learns to read."
AmnaD sought out a tutor that very day, applied
himself to learn with great diligence, and soon won
the book. He was proud of it, all his life.
This great king, in the first year of his reign,
fought nine battles with the Danes. He made some

treaties with them too, by which the false Doane
swore that they would quit the countryA They pre-
tended to consider that they had taken & very solemn
oath, in swearing this upon the holy bracelets that
they wore, and which were always buried with them
when they died; but they cared little for it, for they
thought nothing of breaking oaths and treties too,
a soon as it suited their purpose, and coming back
again to fight, pl, plder, and burn, a uua One
fatal winter, in the fourth year of Kria-ALrnn'sn
reign, they he spare themselves in grt numbers over
the whole of England; and so dispersed and routed
the king's soldiers that the king was left aloe, and
was obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant,
and to take refuge in the cottage of one of his cow-
herds who did not know his face.
Mere, KmB Az.rnm, while the Danes sought
him far and wide, was left alone, one day, by the
cowherd's wife, to watch some cakes which she put
to bake upon thethe hear. But being at work upon
his bow and arrows, with which he hoped to punish
the false Danes when a brighter time should oomee
and thinking deeply of his poor unhappy subjeota
whom they chased through the land, his noble mind
forgot the cake., and they were burnt. "What!"
said the cowherd's wife, who scolded him well when
she came back, and little thought ahe was scolding
the king, "You will be ready enough to eat, them
by-andby, and andyet you annotwath them, idladogP"
At length, the Devonshire men made head asginat
a new host of Danes who landed ao their e.m
kiled their chief, and captured their ag; on whio o

A onLD flron's OP nGLAlo

wa represented the likeness of a Raven a very
it bird- t thievish army like that, I think. The
loss of thir standard troubled the Danea greatly,
for they believed it to be enchanted woven by
the three daughters of one father in a single after-
noon and had a story among themselves that
when they were victorious in battle, the .aven
stretched hIs wings and seemed to ly; and that when
they were defeated, he would droop. He had good
reason to droop, now, if he could have done any-
thing half so sensible; for, KJNG ALArAD joined the
Devonshire mean made a camp with them on a piece
of firm ground in the midst of a bog in Somerset-
shire; and prepared for a great attempt for vengeance
on the Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed
But, t, as it was important to know how
numerous these pestilent Danes were, and how they
were fortified, KIan ArmBaE, beig a good musician,
disguised himself as a gleeman or minstrel, and
went, with his harp, to the Danish camp. He played
and sang in the very tent of GurTuUM the Danish
leader, and entertained the Danes a they caused.
While he seemed to think of nothing but his music,
he was watehrif of their tents, their arnn, their
discipline everything that he desired to know. And
right soon did this great King entertain them to a
different tune; for, snunoning all his true followers
to meet him at n appointed place, where they re-
ceived him with joyful shouts and tesa, as the
monarch whom many of them had given up for lost
or dead, he pit himself at their head, marched on

the Danish camp, defeated the Danes with great
slaughter, and besieged them for fourteen days to
prevent their escaped. But, being as merciful as he
was good and brave, he then, instead of killing
them, proposed peace: on condition that they should
altogether depart from that Western part of Eug-
land, and settle in the East; and that GUTnnUM
should become a Christian, in remembrance of the
Divine religion which now taught his conqueror,
the noble A iran, to forgive the enemy who had
so often injured him. This, GuranUM did. At his
baptism, KRuN AFmmn was his godfather. And
GuW uMan was an honourable chief who well de-
served that clemency; for, ever afterwards he was
loyal and faithful to the king. The Danes under
him were faithful too. They plundered and burned
no more, but worked like honest men. They ploughed,
and sowedd rpe and ped, and led good honest English
lives. And I hope the children of those Daneo
played, many a time, with Saxon children in the
sunny fields; and that Danish young men fell in
love with Saxon girls, and married them; and that
English travellers, benighted at the doors of Danis
cottages, often went in for shelter until morning;
and that Danes and Saxoa at by the red fire,
friends, talking of Krne .Ar nn Tn GaaT.
All the Danes were not like these under Gurmx;
for, after some years, more of them ame over, in
the old, plundering and burning way- among them
a ferce pirate of the name of HAs mes, who had
the boldness to sail up the Thames to Gravesend,
with eighty ships. For three years, there wa a

war with these Danes; and there was a famine In
the country, too, and a plague, both upon human
creatures and beasts. But Knre .Az ran, whose
mighty heart never failed him, built large ships
nevertheless, with which to pursue the pirates on
the sea; and he encouraged his soldiers, by his
brave example, to fght valiantly against them on
the shore. At last, he drove them all away; and
then there was repose in England.
As great and good in peace, as he was great
and good in war, Kmo ArnwD never rested from
his labors to improve his people. He loved to talk
with clever men, and with travellers from foreign
countries, and to write down what they told him,
for his people to read. He had studied Latin after
learning to read English, and now another of his
labor waa, to translate Latin books into the
English-Saaon tongue, that his people might be
interested, and improved by their contents. He
made just laws, that they might live more happily
and freely; he turned away all partial judges, that
no wrong might be done them; he was so careful
.of their property, and punished robbers so severely,
that it was a common thing to say that under the
great K~n'A-ALRD, garlands of golden chains and
jewels might have hung across the streets, and no
man would have touched one. He founded ashools;
he patiently heard causes himself in his court of
Justice the great deireso of his heart were, to do
right to all his subjects, and to leave Englandbetter,
wiser, happier in all ways, than he found it. Me
industry in these eorts was quite astonishing.

Every day he divided into certain portions, and in
each portion devoted himself to a certain purvmit.
That he might divide his time exactly, he had wax
torehes or candles made, which were all of the
same size, were noted across at regular distances,
and were always kept burning. Theu, as the candles
burnt down, he divided the day into notches, almost
a accurately a. we now divide it into hours upon
the clock* But, when the candles were first in-
vented, it was found that the wind and draughts
of air, blowing into the palace through the doors
and windows, and through the chinks in the walls,
caused them to gutter and burn muequally. To
prevent thid, the king had them put into eases
formed of wood and white horn. And these were
the first lanthorns ever made in England.
All this time, he was afflicted with a terrible
unknown disease, which caused him violent and
frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He bore
it, as he had borne all the troubles of his life, like
a brave good man, until be was ifty-three years
old; and then, having reigned thirty years, he died.
He died in the year nine hundred and one; but,
long ago as that is, his fame, and the love and
gratitude with which his subjects regarded him, are
freshly remembered to the present hour.
In the next reign, which was the reign of En-
WAnD, "sua named Tan ElnnD who was chosen
in council to sneceed, a nephew of K nG Ax.rmn
troubled the country by trying obtain the throne
The Danes in the East of Elngn took part with
this usurper (perhaps because they had honored his

nole so much, and honored him for his uncle's
sake), and there was hard fighting but, the king,
with the assistance of his sister, gained the day,
and reigned in peace for four and twenty years. He
gradually extended his power over the whole of Eg-
land, and so theSevenKingdomswereunited into one.
When England thus became one kingdom, ruled
over by one Saxon king, the Saxons had been
settled in the country more than four hundred asn
fify years. Great-ages had taken place in its
cantoms during that tie. The Saxons were still
greedy eaters and great drinkers, and their feasts
were often of a noisy and drunken kind; but many
new comforts and even eleganeies had become
known, and were fast increasing. Hangings for
the walls of rooms, where, in these modern days,
we paste up paper, are known to have been some-
times made o of k, ornamented with birds and
Rowers in needlework. Tables and chai were
curiously carved in different woods; were sometimes
decorated with gold or silver; sometimes even made
of those precious metals. Knives and spoons were
used at table; golden ornaments were worn -
with silka and cloth and golden tosses and em-
broideries; dishes were made of gold and silver,
brass and bone. There were varieties of drinking-
horne, bedlead, manical interment. A harp was
passed round, at a feast, lie the drnkinng-bewl,
from guest to guest; and each one ueaally sang or
played when his turn came. The weapons of the
Saxons werr stoutly made, and among them was a
terrible iron hammer that gave deadly blows, and

was long membered. The Baxons themselves
were a handsome pe e people he en wer proud
of their long fair hair, parted on the forehead;
their ample beards, their fresh complaiona, and
clear eyes. The beauty of the Saxon women filed
all England with a new delight and grace.
I have more to tell of the Sxons yet, but I
stop to say this now, because, under the GoaATr
ALFe n, all the best points of the English-Saxon
character were first encouraged, and in him first
shown. It has been the greatest character among
the nations of the death. Whenever te descendants
of the Saxon race have gone, have sailed, or other-
wise made their way, even to the remotest regions
of the world, they hae been patient, persevering,
never to be broken in spirit, never to be turned
aside *fom enterprises on which they have resolved.
In Europe, Asia, Africa, America, the whole world
over; in the desert, in the forest, on the sea;
scorched by a burning sun, or frozen by ice that
never melts; the Saxon blood reminns unchanged.
Wheresoever that race goes, there, law, and in-
duAtry, and safety for life and property, and all
the great results of steady pereerance, are c-
tain to arise.
I panse to think, with admiration of the noble
king who, in his single person, possessed all the
BSaon vir-tue. Whom misfortne could not sub-
due, whom prosperity could not spoil, whose per-
sever~oce nothing could shake. Who was hopeful
in defeat, and generous in success. Who loved
justice, freedom, truth, and knowledge. Who, in

his care to instrunt his people, probably did more
to preserve the beautiful old SBaxon langtage, fhla
I can imagine. Without whom, the English tongue
in which I tell his story might have wanted half
its meaning. As it is aid that h spirit still in-
spires some of our bet English laws, so, let you
and I pray that it may animate our English
hearts, at least to this to resolve, when we see
any of our fellow-creaturea left in ignorance, that
we will do our best, while life Is in us, to have
then taught; and to tell those rulers whose duty
it is to teach them, and who neglect their duty,
that they have profited very little by all the years
that have rolled away since the year nine hundred
and one, and that they are far behind the bright
example of KIn ALf is Trun GuEAT.

ATErmeanan, the son of Edward the Elder, eo-
ceeded that king. He reigned only fifteen years;
but he remembered the glory of his grandfather,
the great Alfred, and governed England well. He
reduced the turbulent people of Wales, and obliged
them to pay him a tribute in money, and in cattle,
and to send him their best hawks and hounds. He
-was victorious over theCor nis. ten, who were not
yet quiet under the Saxon government He restored

such of the old laws as were good, and had fallen
into disnee; made some wise new laws, and took
eare of the poor sad weak. A strong alliaao,
made against him by At.r a Danish prince, ow-
STArTn King of the Soots, and the people of
North Wales, he broke and defeated in one great
battle, long famous for the vast numbers slain in
it. After that, he had a quiet reign; the lords and
ladies'about him had leisure to become polite and
agreeable; and foreign princes were glad (as they
have sometimes been since) to come to England on
visits to the English court.
When Atheetane died, at forty-seven years old,
his brother EDMUe, who was only eighteen, be-
eame king. He was the first of six boy-kings, as
you will presently know.
They called him the Magnificent, because he
showed a taste for improvement and refinement.
But he was beset by the Danes, and had a short
and troubled reign, which came to a troubled end.
One night, when he was feasting in his hall, and
had eaten much and drunk deep, he saw, among
the company, a noted robber named Leor, who
had been banished from England. Made very angry
by the boldness of this man, the king turned to
hi cup-bea r era, and said "There is a-robber sit-
ting at the table yonder, who, for his Crimes, is
an outlaw It the land a hunted wolf,* whose
life any man may take, at any time. Command
that robber to depart!" "I will not departs" said
Leof. "No?" cried the king. "No, by te Lordl"
said Leof. Upon that the king arose from his

seat, and, making passionately at the robber, and
eoisiog him by his long hair, tried to throw Mm
down. But the robber had a dagger underneath
his cloak, and, in the cuffle, stabbed the king to
death. That done, he set his back against the
wall, and fought so desperately; that although he
was soon cut to pieces by the king's armed men,
and the wa and pavement were splashed with his
blood, yet it was not before he had killed and
wounded many of them. You may imagine what
ough lives the kings of those times led, when
one of them could struggle, half drunk with a
public robber in his own dining-hall, and be stabbed
in presence o the company who ate and drank
with him. \
Then succeeded the boy-king EnDBn, who was
weak and sickly in body, but of a strong mind.
And his armies fought the Northmen, the Danes,
and Norwegians, or the Sea Kings, as they were
called, and beat them for the time. And, in nine
years, Edred died, and passed away.
Then came the boy-king EDwT, fifteen years
of age; but the real king; who had the real power,
was a monk named DuwsTAN & clever priest;
a little mad, and not a little proud and cruel.
Dunstan waMthen Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey,
whither the body of King Edmund the Magnificent
was carried, to be buried. While yet a boy, he
had got out of hisbed, one night (being then in a
fever), and w edwalked about Glastonbury Churc rhilt
It was nnder repair; and, bea use did not tumble
af some oeafold that were there, and break his

A*wnLBTAram-A -a Tmn six BO-Yasf. 88
neck, it was reported that he had been shown over
the building by an angeL He had also made a,
harp that was said to play of itself which it
very likely did, as Sola arps, which are played
by the windnd and r nderetood now, always do.
For these wonders he had been once denounced by
his enemies, who were jealous of his favor with
the late king Athelastan, as a magician; and had
been waylaid, bound hand and foot, and thrown
into a marsh. Bint he got out again, somehow, to
cause a great deal of trouble yet. /
The pribets of those days were, generally, the
only scholars. They were learned in many things.
Having to make their own convents and monasteries
on uncltivated on tha grounds that were granted to them
by the Crown, it was necessary that they should
be good farmers and good gardeners, or their lands
would have been too poor to support them. For
the decoration of the chapels where they prayed,
and for'the comfort of the refectories where they
ate and drank, it was necessary that there should
be good carpenters, good emiths, good painter.,
among them. For their greater safety in s iness
and accident, living alone by themselves In solitary
places, it Wv necessary that they should study
the virtues of plants and herbs, and should know
how to dress cuts, burns, scalds, and bruises, and
how to set broken limbs. Accordingly, they taught
themselves, ad one another, a great variety of
uaeful arts; and became skill in asiculture, me-
dicine, esrgery, and handicraft And when they
wanted the aid of any little piece of machinery,

which would be simple enough now, but was mar-
vollons then, to nipose a trick upon the poor
peasants, they knew very well how to make it
and did make it many a timeand often, I have no
Duntan, Abbot of Glastonbnry Abbey, was
one of the most sagacious of these moas. He was
an ingenious smith, and worked at a forge in his
little cell. This cell wa made too short to admit
of his lying at full length when he went to sleep
- as if that did any good to anybody and he
used to tell the most extraordinary lies aboutde-
mons and spirits, who, he said, oinme there to
persecute him. For instance, he related that, one
day when he was at work, the devil looked in at
the little window, and tried to tempt lhn to lead a
life of idle pleasure; whereupon, having his pincers
in the fire, redhot, he seized the devil by the nose,
and put him to such pain, that his yellowing.
were heard for miles and miles. Some people are
inclined to think this nonsense a part of )unstan's
madness (for his head never quite recovered the
fever), but I think not. I observe that it induced,
the ignorant people to consider him a holy man,
and that it made him very powerful. Which was
exactly what he always wanted. t
On the day of the coronation of the handsome
boy-king Edwy, it was remarked by Ono, Arch-
bishop of Canterbury (who was a Dane by birth),
that the king quietly left the coronation feast,
while all the company were there. Odo, much
displeased, sent his friend Dustan to seek him.

l.Dnstan finding him in the company of his beauti-
ul young wife, ELOrvA, and her oavA, a good and virtuous lady, not only grossly
abused them, but dragged the young king back
into the feasting-hall by force. Some, again, thin
Dunstan did this because the young king's fair
wife was his own cousin, aud the monks objected
to people marrying their own cousins; but I be-
lieve lie did it, because he was an imperious,
audacious, ill-conditioned priest, who, having loved
a young lady himself before he became a sour
monk, hated all love now, and everything belong-
ing to it.
The young king was quite old enough to feel
this insut. Dunstan had been Treasurer in the
last reign, and he soon charged Dunstan with
having taken some of the last king's money. The
Glastonbury Abbot fled to Belgium (very narrowly
escaping some pursuers who wlpre sent to put out
his eyes, as you will wish they had, when you
read what follows), and his abbey was given to
priests who were married; whom he always, both
before and afterwards, opposed. But he quickly
conspired with his friend, Ode the Dane, to set up
the king's young brother, EDAR), as his rival for
the throne; and, not content with this revenge, he
caeaed the beautiful queen Elgiva, though a lovely
girl of only seventeen or eighteen, to be stolen f&om
one of the Royal Palaces, branded in the cheek
with a red-hot iron, and sold into slavery in Ire-
land. But the Irish people pitied and befriended
her; and they said, "Let us restore the giri-queen

to the boy-hing, and make tlhe young lovers happy!"
and they cured her of her ornel wound, and sent
her home as beautiful as before. But the villain
Dunstan, and that other villain, Odo, caused her
to be waylaid at Gloucester as she was joyfully
hurrying to join her husband, and to be hacked
and hewn with swords, and to be barbarously
maimed and lamed, and left to die. When Edwy
the Fair-(his people called him so, because he was
so young and handsome) heard of her dreadful
fate, he died of a broken heart; and so the pitiful
story of the poor young wife and husband ends!
Ahi Better to be two cottagers in these better
times, than king and queen of England in those
bad days, though never so fairly I
Then came the boy-king, ErnoA, called the
Peaceful, fifteen years old. Dunstan, being still
the real king, drove Oal married priests out of the
monasteries and abbeys, and replaced those by
solitary monks like himself, of the rigid order called
the Benedictines. He made himself Archbishop of
Canterbury, for his greater glory; and exercised
such power over the neighboring British princes,
and so collected them about the king, that onea,
when the king held his court at Chester, and went
on the river Dee to visit the monastery of St. John,
the eight oars of his boat were pulled (as the people
used to delight in relating in stories and songs)
by eight crowned kings, and steered by the King
of England. As Edgar was very obedient to
Dunstan and the monks, they took great pains to
represent him as the beat of kings. RBt he was

really profligate, debauched and vicious. He once
forcibly carried off a young lady from th& convent
at Wilton; and Dunstan, pretending to be very
much shocked, condemned him not to wear his
crown upon his head for seven years no great
punishment, I dare say, as it can hardly have been
a more comfortable ornament to wear, than a stew-
pan without a handle. His marriage with his se-
cond wife, ErLRDA, is one of the worst events of
his reign. Rearing of the beauty of this lady, he
despatched his favorite courtier, ATzeawoLn, to
her father's castle inDevonshire, to see if she were
really as charming as fame reported. Now, she
was so exceedingly beautiful that Athelwold fell in
love with her himself, and married her; but he
told the king that she was only rich not hand-
some. The king, suspecting the truth when they
came home, resolved to pay the newly-married
couple a visit; and, suddenly, told Athelwold to
prepare for his immediate-oming. Athelwold, terri-
fied, confessed to his young wife what he had said
and done, and implored her to disgnse her beauty
by some ugly dress or lly mamner, that he might
be safe from the Iing's anger. She promised that
she would but she was a proud woman, who would
far rather have been a queen than the wife of
courter.o Lhe dressed herself in her best drees,
and adorned herself with her richelt jewels; and
when the king came, presently discovered th
cheat. So, ho caused as ae fiend, Athelwold,
to be murder in a wood, and married his widow,
this bad )frida. Six or seven years afterwards,

he died; and was buried, as if he had been all that
the monks said he was, in the abbey of Glaston-
bury, which he or Dunstan for him had 'muh
England, in one part of this reign, was so
troubled by wolves, which, driven out of the open
country, hid themselves in the mountains of Wales
when they were not attacking travellers and ani-
mals, that the tribute payable by the Welsh people
was forgiven them, on condition of their producing,
every year, three hundred wolves' heads. And the
Welshmen were so sharp upon the wolves, to save
their money, that in four years there was not a
wolf left.
Then canie the boy-king, E W an, called the
Martyr, from the manner of his death. Elfrda
had a-son, named ErnTamE, for whom she claimed
the throne; but Dunstan did not choose to favour
him, and he made Edward king. The boy was
hunting, one day, down in Dorsetahire, when he
rode near to Corfe Castle, where Elfida and Ethel-
red lived. Wishing to see them kindly, he rode
away from his attendants and galloped to the castle
gate, where he arrived at twilight and blew his
hunting-horn. "You are welcome, dear king," said
Elfida, coming out, with her brightest smiles.
"Pray you dismount and enter." "Not so, dear
madam," said the king. "My company will miss
me, and fear that I have met with some harm.
Please you to give me cup of wine, that I may
drink here, in the saddle, to you and to my little
brother, and so ride away with the good speed

I have made in ridi ing her" Elfid gong
bring the wine, whispered an armed servant, one
of her attendant, who stole out of the darkening
gateway, and crept round behind the king's -hore.
As the king raised the cup to his lips, saying,
"Healthl" to the wicked woman who was smiling
on him, and to his innocent brother whose hand she
held in hers, and who was only ten years old, this
armed man made a spring and stabbed him in the
back. He dropped the cup and spurred his horse
away; but, soon fainting with loss of blood, drooped
from the saddle, and, in his fall, entangled one
of his feet in the stirrup. The frightened horse
dashed on; trailing his rider's curls upon th ground;
dragging his smooth young face through rute, and
atones, and briers, and fallen leaves, and mud;
until the hunters, tracking the animal's course by
the king's blood, caught his bridle, and released
the disfigured body.
Then came the sixth and last of the boy-kings,
ETHrnmqR; whom Elfrida, when he cried out at
the sight of his murdered brother riding away from
the castle gate, unmercifully beat with a torch which
she snatched from one of the attendants. The people
so disliked this boy, on account of his cruel mother
and the murder she had done to promote him, that
Dunstan would not have had him for king, but
would have made E ITHA, the daughter of the
dead King Edgar and of the lady whom he stole
out of the convent at Wilton, Queen of England
if she would have conasnted. But she knew the
stories of the youthful kings too well, and ould


not be persuaded from the oonvent where she lived
in peace; so Dunsta- put tiheired on the throne,
having no one ela ttfput there, and gave him the
nickname of TIm UnSsa ,r knowing that he
wanted resolution and firmness. -
At first, Elfrida possessed great influence over
the young king, but, as he grew older and came
of age, her influence declined. The infamous wo-
man, not having it in her power to do any more
evil, then retired from court, and, according to the
fashion of the time, built churches and monasteries,
to expiate her guilt. As if a church, with a steeple
reaching to the very stars would have been any
sign of true repentance for the blood of the poor
boy, whose murdered form was trailed at his horse's
heels! As if she could have buried her wickedness
beneath the senseless stones of the whole world,
piled up one upon another, for the monks to Hve in!
About the ninth or tenth year of this reign,
Dmustan died He was growing old then, but was
a stern and artful as ever. Two eircuostantce
that happened in connexion with him, in this reign
of Ethelred, made a great noise. Once, he was pre-
sent at a meeting of the Church, when the question
was discussed whether priests should have prmilion
to marry; and, a he sat with his head hung down,
apparently thinking about it, a voice seemed to
come out of a crucifix in the room, and warn the
meeting to be of his opinion. This was some juggling
of Dunstan's, and was probably his own voice dis-
guised/But he played off a worse juggle than that,
soon afterwards; for, another meeting being held on

the same subject, and he and his supporters being
seated on one side of & great room, and their op-
ponents on the other, he roe xew said, "To Christ
himself, as Judge, do I commit thin canes" Im-
mediately on these words being spoken, the door
where the opposite party sat, gave away, and some
were killed and many wounded. You may be pretty
sare it had been weakened under Dunstan' direction,
and that it fell at Dunstan's signal. tia part of the
foor did not go down. No, no. He was too good
a workman for that.
When he died, the mons settled that he was a
Saint, and d called him Saint Dunst ever after-
wards. They might just as well have settled that
he was a coach-horse, and could just as easily have
called him one.
Ethelred the Unready was glad enough, I dare
say, to be rid of this holy saint; but, left to him-
self, he was a poor weak king, and his reign was
a reign of defeat and shame. The restless Danes,
led by SwEi, a son/of the King of Denmark who
had quarrelled with his father and been banished
from home, again came into England, and, year
after year, attacked and despoiled large towns. To
coax these sea-kings away, the weak Ethelred .paid
them money; but, the more money he paid, the
more money the Danes wanted. At first, he gave
them ten thousand pounds; on their next invasion,
sixteen thousand pounds; on their net invasion,.
four and twenty thousand pounds: to pay which
large sums, the unfortunate English people were
heavily taxed. But, as the Danes still eame bak

and wanted more, he thought it would be a good
plan to marry into some powerful foreign family that
would help him with soldiers. So, in the year one
thousand and two, he courted and married Emma,
the sister of Richard Duke of Normandy; a lady
who was called the Flower of Normandy.
And now, a terrible deed was done in Eng-
land, the like of which was never done on English
ground, before or since. On the thirteenth of No-
vember, in pursuance of secret instructions sent
by the king over the whole country, the inhabitants
of every town and city armed, and murdered all
the Danes who were their neighbours. Young and
old, babies and soldiers, men and women, every
Dane was killed. No doubt there were among them
many ferocious men who had done the English
great wrong, and whose pride and insolence, in
swaggering in the houses of the English and insult-
ing their wives and daughters, had become un-
bearable; but no doubt there were also among them
many peaceful christian Danes who had married
English women and become like Engliah men.
They were all slain, even to Gunan.DA, the sister
of the King of Denmark, married to an English
lord who was fret obliged to see the murder of her
husband and her child, and then was killed her-
self. ,
When the King of the sea-kings heard of thi
deed of blood, he swore that he would have a great
revenge. He raised an army, and a ightier fleet
of ships than ever yet had sailed to England; and
in all his army there was not a slave or an old

man, but every soldier wes a free man, and the
son of a free man, and in the prime of life, sand
sworn to be revenged upon the English nation, for
the rmasacre of that dread thirteenth of November,
when his countrymen and countrywomen, and the
little children whom they loved, were killed with
fire and sword And so, the sea-kings came to
England in many great ships, each bearing the
flag of its own commander. Golden eagles, ravens,
dragons, dolphins, beasts of prey, threatened Eng-
land from the prows of those ships, as they came
onward through the water; and were reflected in the
shining shields that hung upon their sides. The
ship that bore the standard of the King of the sea-
kings was carved and painted like a mighty serpent;
and the King n hie anger prayed that the Gods in
whom he trusted might all desert him, if his serpent
did not strike its fang into England's heart
And indeed it did. For, the great army landing
from the great feet, near Exeter, went forward,
laying England waste, and striking their lances in
the earth as they advanced, or throwing them into
rivers, in token of ng their making all the land the
In remembrance of the black November night when
the Danes were murdered, wheresoever the invaders
came, they made the Baxons prepare and spread
for them great feasts; nd when they had eaten
those feasts, and had drunk a curse to England
with wild rejoicing, they drew their swords, and
killed their Saon entertainers, and marched on.
For six long years they carried on this waer burn-
ing the crops, farmhouses, barns, mills, graaries;

killing the laborers in the fields preventing the
seed from being sown in the ground; causing famie
and starvation; leaving only heaps of ruin and
smoking ashes, where they had found rich towns.
To crown this misery, English officer and men
deserted, and even the favorites of Ethelred the
Unready, becoming traitors, seized many of the
English ships, turned pirates against their own
country, and aided by a storm occasioned the lose
of nearly the whole English navy.
There was but one man of note, at this miserable
pass, who was true to his country and the feeble
king. He was a priest, and a brave one. For
twenty days, the Archbishop of Canterbury defended
that city again iy a its Danish besieger and when a
traitor in the town threw the gates open and ad-
mitted them, he said, in chains, "I will not buy
my life with money that must be extorted from the
suffering people. Do with me what you please!"
Again and again, he steadily refused to purchase
his release with gold wrong from the poor.
At last, the Danes being tired of this, and being
assembled at a drunken merrymaking, had him
brought into the feauting-hal.
"Now, bishop," they said, "we want gold!"
He looked found on the crowd of angry faces:
from the shaggy beards close to him, to the shaggy
beards against the walls, where men were mounted
on tables and forms to see hm over the heads of
others: and he knew that his time was come
"I have no gold', said he.
"Get it, bishop" they all thundered.

"That, I bfre often told you I will ot," said he.
They gathered closer round him, threatening,
but he stood moved. Then, one man struck hima
then, another; then a cursing soldier picked up
from a heap. in corner of the hall, where frag-
ments had been rudely thrown at dinner, a great
ox-bone, and cast it at his face, from which the
blood came spurting forth; then, others ran to the
same heap, and knocked him down with other bones,
and bruisedd a d ed battered h ; until one soldier
whom he had baptised (willing, as I hope for the
sake of that soldier's son, to shorten the sufelrings
of the good man) struck him dead with his battle,
If Ethelred had had the heart to emulate the
courage of this noble archbishop, he might have
done something yet. But he paid the Danes forty-
eight thousand pounds, instead, and gained so little
by the cowardly act, that Sweyn soon afterwards
came over to subdue all England. So broken was
the attachment of the English people, by this time,
to their incapable king and their forlorn country
which could not protect them, that they welcomed
Sweyn on all sides, as a deliverer. London aith-
fully stood out, as long as the king was within it
walls; but, when he sneaked away, it also welcomed
the Dane. Then, all was over; and the king took
tefhge abroad with the Duke of Normandy, who
had already given shelter to the king's wife, once
the Flower of that country, and to her children
Still, the English people, in spite of their ad
sufferings, could not quite forget the great King

Alfred and the Saxon race. When Sweyn died
suddenly, in little more than a month after he had
been proclaimed king of England, they generously
sent to Ethelred, to say that they would have him
for their king again, "if he would only.govern them
better than he had governed them before." The
Unready, instead of coming himself, sent Edward,
one of his sons, to make promises for him At last,
he followed, and the English declared Idm Idng.
The Danes declared CANvUT, the son of Sweyn,
king. Thus, direful war began again, and lasted
for three years, when the Unready died. And I
know of nothing better that he did, in all his reign
of eight and thirty years.
Was Canute to be king now? Not over the
Saxons, they said; they must have EnDMUn, one
of the sons of the Unready, who was surnamed
InONSaB, because of his strength and stature. Id-
mund and Canute thereupon fell to, and fought five
battles 0 unhappy England, what a fighting
ground it wasl and then Ironside, who was a
big man, proposed to Canute, who was a little man,
that they two should fight it out in single combat
If Canute had been the big man, he would pro-
bably have said yes, but, being the little man, he
decidedly said no. However, he declared that he
was willing to divide the kingdom to take all
that lay north of Watling Street, a the old Roman
military road from Dover to Chester was called,
and to give Ironside all that lay south of it. Most
men being weary of so much bloodshed, this was
done. But Canute soon became sole King of Eng-

land; for Ironside died suddenly within two months.
Some think that he was killed, and killed by Canute's
orders. No -one knows. -

CAOUTV reigned eighteen years. He was a
merciless king at first. After h had clasped the
hands of the Saxon chiefs, in token of the sincerity
with which he swore to be just and good to them
in return for their acknowledging him, he denounced
and slew many of them, as well as many relations
of the late king. "He who brings me the head of
one of my enemies," he used to say, "shall be
dearer to me than a brother." And he was so severe
in hunting down his enemies, that he must have
got together a pretty large family of these dear
brothers. He was strongly inclined to kill ERnMun
and EDwARD, two children, sons of poor Ironside;
but, being afraid to do so in Englandjhe sent them
over to the King of Sweden, with a request that
the king would be so good as to "dispose of them,"
If the King of Sweden had been like many, many
other men of that day, he wolnd have had their
innocent throats out; but he was a kind man, and
brought them up tenderly.
Normandy ran much in Canute's mind. n Nor-
mandy were the two children of the late king -
Enwan and Axarmnn by name; andm their munle

48 A Oannl' S MISTO0RY OPr B Ann. I
the Duke might one day claim the crown for them.
But the Duke showed so little inclination to do so"
now, that he proposed to' Canute to marry his sister,
the'widow of The Unready; who, being but a showy
flower, and caring for nothing so much as becoming
a queen again, left her children and was wedded
to him.
Successful and triumphant, assisted by the valor
of the English in his foreign wars, and with little
trife to trouble him at home, Canute had a pros-
perous reign, and made many improvements. He
was a poet and a musician. He grew sorry, as hei
grew older, for the blood he had shed at first; and
went to Rome in a Pilgrim's dross, by way of
washing it out. He gave a great deal of money to
foreigners on his journey; but he took it from the
English before he started. On the whole, however,
he certainly became a far better man when he had,
no opposition to contend with, and was great a
king as England had known for some time.
The old writers of history relate how that Canute
was one day disgusted with his courtiers for their
flattery, and how he caused his chair to be set on
the sea-shore, and feigned to command the tide as
it came up not to wae the edge of his robe, for the
land was his; how the tide came up, of corse,
without regarding him; and how he then turned to
his latterer., and rebuked them, saying, what was
the might of any earthly king, to the might of the
Creator, who could say unto the sea, "Thus far
shalt thou go, and no farther l" We may learn
fom this, I think, that a little sense will go a long

wny in a king; and that courtiers are not easily
cured of flattery, nor inge of a liking for it. If the
courtiers of Canute had not known, long before,
that the king was fond of flattery,they would have
known better than to offer it in such large doses.
And if they had not known that he was vain of this
speech (anything but a wonderful speech it seems
to me, if a good child had made it), they would
not have been at noh great pains to rpeat it
I fncy I see them all on the seashore together;
the king's chair sinking in the sand; the king in a
mighty good humn -with his own wisdom; and
the courtiers pretending to be quite stunned by itl
It is not the sea alone that is bidden to go "thus
fax, and no farther." The great command goes
forth to all the kings upon the earth, and went to
Canute in the year one thousand and thirty-fie,
and stretched him dead upon his bed. Beside it,
stood his TNoran wife. Perhaps, as the king looked
his last upon her, he, who had so often thought
distrnstfuIly of Normandy, long ago, thought once
more of the two filed Princes in their nnle's court,
and of the little favour they could feel for either
Danes or Saxons, and of a rising cloud in Nor-
mandy that slowly moved towards England. +

(CAw l left three sons, by name Sw w HAnOL,,
and HAtLrOAUoTB; but iis Queen, Emma, once the
Flower of Normandy, was the mother of only Hardi-
canute. Canut had wished his dominions to be
divided between the three, and had wished Harold
to have Englanad; but the Saxon people in the South
of England headed by a nobleman with great pos-
sessions, called the powerful EAnl GODWIn, (who
is said to have been originally a poor cow-boy),
opposed this, and desired to have, instead, either
'ardicanute, or one of the two exiled Princes who
were over in Normandy. It seemed so certain that
there would be more bloodshed to settle this dispute,
that many people left their homes, and took refuge
in the woods and swamps. happily, however, it
was agreed to refer the whole question to a great
meeting at Oxford, which decided that Harold should
have all the country north of the Thames, with
London for his capital city, and that Hardicanute
should have all the south. The quarrel was so
arranged; and, as Iardicanuta was in Denmark
troubling himself very little about anything but
eating and getting drunk, his mother and Earl
Godwin governed the south for hinm
They had hardly begun to do so, and M)e

HaOW, sfltOAmTr, ADn un Wa. 61
trembling people, w"o had hidden themselves were
sarcely at home again, when Eiward, the elder
of the two exiled Princes, cae over fom Nor-
mandy with a few followers, to claim the English
Orown. His mother Emmsm, however, who only oared
for her last son Mardicaante, instead of assisting
him, as he expected, opposed him so strongly with
all her intlence that he was very soon glad to get
safely back. His brother Alfedwas not so frtate
Believing n an affectionate letter, written some time
afterwards to him and hia brother, in his mother's
name (but whether really with or without his ~ao-
ther's knowledge is now uncertain), he allowed him-
self to bo tempted over to' England, with a good
force of soldiers, and landing on the Kentish coat,
and being met and d welcomed by Earl Godwin, pro-
ceeded into Surrey, a far as the town of Gnldford.
Here, he and hid men halted in the evening to rest,
having till the Earl in their company who had
ordered lodgings and good cheer for them. But, in
the dead of night, when they were off their guard,
being divided into small parties sleeping sounsly
after a long march and a plentiful supper in dif-
ferent houses, they were set upon by the King's
troops, and taken prisoners. Next morning they
were drawn out in a line, to the number of si
hundred n, and were barbarously tortured and
killed; with the seeyption of every tenth man, who
was sold into slavery. A to the wrethed. Prince
Afred, he was stripped naked, tied to ,a horse, and
sent away into th e isl of Ely, where hi eyes ore
torn out of his head, and where in a few dAy he.

miserably died. I am not s en thea the Etr had
wilfully entrapped hia, but I suspect it strongly. -
Harold was now King all over ngland, though
it is doubtetl whether the Archbishop of Castetbvut
(the greater part of the priests were Saxon, and
not friendly to the Danes) ever consented to crown
him. Crowned or uncrowned, with the Archbishop's
leave or wthtithout, he was King for four years:
after which short reign he died, and was buried;
having never done much n life but go a hunting.
He was such a fast runner at this, his favorite
sport, that the people called him Harold Hare-
Hardicanute was then at Bruges, in Flander,
plotting, with his step-mother Emma (who had gone
over there after the crel murder of Prince Alfred),
for the invasion of England. The Danes and Sarons
fining theiselvea without a King, and dreading
new disputes, made common canme, and joined in
inviting him to occupy the Throne. He consented,
and soon troubled them enough; for he brought over
numbers of Damne, and taxed the people so ineap-
portably to enrich those greedy favorites that there
were many Isrrections, especially one at Worcester,
where the citizens rose and killed his ta-collectors;
in revenge for which he burned their city. He was
a brutal King, whose first public act wa to order
the dead body of poor Harold Harefoot to be dug
up, beheaded, and thrown into the river. M. end
was worthy of ech a beginning. He fell down
d&ink, with a goblet of wine in his hiad, at a
wedding-feast at Lambeth, given in honor of the

Oarriage of his standard-bea a Dane named
T1owa neai Pnodo. Anud he never spoke again.
EDWOAD, fterwar&s called by-the-moeks Ti
Cooswaon, succeeded; and his frst act. was to
oblige his mother Emma, who bad favored aim 0
little, to retire into the country; where she died
some ten years afterwards. He was the exiled
prince whose brother Alfred had been so foully
killed. He had been invited over from Normandy
by Hardhcanute, in the course of his short reign
of tto years, and had been handsomely treated at
court. His cause was now favored by the power-
ful Earl Godwin, and he was soon made King.
This Earl had been suspected by the people, ever
since Prince Alfred' cruel death; he had even been
tried in the last reign for the Princes murder; but
had been pronounced not guilty; chiefly, as it was
supposed, because of a present he had made to the
swinish King, of a gilded ship with a figure-head
of solid gold, and a crew of eighty splendidly armed
men. It was his interest to help the new King with
his power, if the new King would help him against
the popular distrust and batrd So they made a
bargain. Edward the Confssor got the Throne.
The Earl got more power and more land, and his
daughter Edith. was made queen; for it was a part
of their compact that the King should take her for
his wife. */
But, although shewa a gentle lady, in all things
worthy to be beloved good, beautiful, senoble,
and hind -- the King fem the first neglected her.
Her father and her six proud brother, resenting

this cold treatsnt, harassed the King greatly by
exerting all their power to make him unpopular.
having lived so long in Normandy, he preferred
the Normans to the English. He made a Norman
Arahbishop, and Norman Bishop; his great officers
and favourites were all Normans; he introduced the
Norman fashions and the Norman language in
imitation of the state custom of Normandy, he at-
tached & great seal to his state docmentrs, instead
of merely marking them, as the Saxon Kings had
done, with the sign of the cross just as poor
people who have never been taught to write, now
make the same mark for their names. All this, the
powerful iarl Godwin and his aix proud sons re-
presented to the people as disfavor shown towards
the English; and thus they daily increased their own
power, and daily diminished the power of the King.
They were greatly helped by an event that oc-
Curred when he bad reigned eight years. uestace,
Earl of Boulogne, who had married thKing's sister,
came to England on visit. After staying ,at the
etrt some time, he set forth, with his numerous
train of attendants, to return home. They were to
embark at Dover. Iltering that peaceful town in
armour, they took possession of the beat houses,
and noisily demanded to be lodged'and enterained
withont payment One of the bold men of Dover,
who would not endure to have these, domineering
Irangerl jingng their heavy words and iron
eoraleta up and down hi house, eating hei meat
and drinking is strong liquor, stood in his door-
way and refused admission to the firt armed man

who name there. The armed man drew, and wounded
him. The man of Dover track the ared man
dead. Intelligence of what he had done, spreading
through the streets to where the Count E1ntace and
his men were standing by their horse, bridle in
hand, they passionately mounted, galloped to the
hoee, su uded it, forced their way in (the door
and window being closed when they came up),
4nd killed the man of Dover at his own fre-side.
They then clattered through the streets, outing
down and riding over men, women and children.
This did not last long, you may believe. The men
of Dover set upon them with great fury, killed nine-
een of the foreigners, wounded many more, and,
blockading the road to the port eo that they should
not embark, beat them out of the town by the way
they had come. Hereupon, Count Eustace rides as
hard as man can rde to Glocester, where Edward
la, surrounded by Norman monks and Norma lords.
"Justicel" cries Co, the Count, upon the men of Dover,
who have set upon an4 elain my people" The King
ends immediately for the powerful Earl Godwin,
who happens to be near; reminds him that Dover
a under his government; and orders him to pair
to Dover and do military execution on the in-
habitants. "It does not become you," says the
proud Earl in reply, "to condemn without a hearing
those whom you have sworn to protect. I will not
do it"
The King, therefre, summoned the Earl, on
pain of banishment and the loss of his title and
property, to appear before the court to maswe this

disobedience. The Earl refaed to appear. He, h
eldest son Harold, and his second son Swoyn, hastily
raised as many fighting me as their utmost power
could collet, and demanded to have Count Enutace
and his followers surrendere to the justice of the
country. The King, in his turn, reffied to give
them up, and raised a strong force. After some
treaty and delay, the troops of the great Earl and
hie sons began to fall off. The Earl, with a part
of his family andaan andnce of treasure, sailed to
Flanders1 Harold escaped to Ireland; and the power
of the great family was for that time gone in Eng-
land. But, the people did not forget them.
Then,Edward the Confessr, witthe true mean-
aes of a mean spirit, visited his dislike o the nce
powlaerful father and son upon the helpless daughter
and sister, his inoffonding wife, whom all who saw
her (her husband and his monks excepted) loved.
He seized rapaciously upon her fortune and her
jewels, and allowing her only one attendant, con-
fied her in a gloomy convent, of which a sister
of his no doubt t n plea lady after his own
heart was abbess or jailer.
Having got Earl Godwin and his six sons well
oat of his way, the King favored the Normans
mowr than over. He invited over W nar, Dum
or Noa MAsw, the son of that Doke who had re-
eelved him and his murdered brother long ago, and
of a peasant girl, a tanner's daughter, with whom
that Duke had fallen in love for her beauty as he
saw her washing clothes in a brook. William, who
wa a great warrior, with a passion for fine horse,

dogs, and arms, maepted the invitaton; and the
Normans in England, finding themselves more nn-
merons than ever when he arrived with his retinne,
and hold in still greater honor at court than be-
fore, became more and oe sghty towards the
people, and were more and more disliked by them.
The old Earl Godwin, though he was abroad,
knew well how the people felt; for, with part of the
treasure he had carried away with him, he kept
spies and agents in his pay all over England. Ao-
cordingly, he thought the time was come for fitting
out a great expedition against the Norman-lovig
King. With it, he sailed to the Isle of Wight, where
he was joined by his son IHarold, the most gllant
and brave of all his family. And so the father and
son came sailing up the Thames to Southwork;
great numbers of the people declaring for there,
and shouting for the English Earl and the Engli]b
Harold, against the Norman favorites I
The King was at first as blind and stubborn a
kings usually have been whensoever they hve been
in the hands of monks. But the people rallied so
thickly round the old arl and his sen, and the
old Earl was so steady in demanding without blood-
abhed the restoration of himself and hia family to
their rights, that at last the coart took the alarm.
The Norman Archbishop of Canterbuy, and the
Norman Bishop of London, surrounded by elr
retainere, fougithe t thr ot of London, and
escaped fom Essex to prance in a fshing-boat.
The other Norman favorites dispersed in all ,
reactions. The ol d Ea s soal i ns (except Sweyn

who had committed rimes against the law) were
restored to their possessions and dignities. Editha,
the virtnolu and lovely Queen of the insensible
King, was triumphantly released from her prison,
the convent, and once more at in her chair of state,
arrayed in the jewels of which, when she had no
champion to support her rights, her cold-blooded
husband had deprived her.
The old Earl Godwin did not long enjoy his
restored fortune. He fell down in a fit at the King's
table, and died upon the third day afterwards
Harold succeeded to hi power, and to a far higher
place in the attachment of tha people tha his faster
had ever held. y his valor he subdued the King's
enemies in many bloody fights. He was vigorous
against rebels in Scotland this was the time when
Macbeth slew Dunan, upon which event our English
Shakespeare hundreds of years afterward, wrote
his great tragedy; and he killed the retless Welsh
King Gazrrra, and brought his head to England.
SWhat Harold wa doing at sea, when he was
drive on the French coast by a tempest, is not a
all certain; nor does it at all matter. That his ship
was forced by a storm on that shore, and tha he
wa taken prisoner, there ai no doubt. In th4oe
barbarous days, all ship-wrecked strange wer
taken prisoners, and obslged to pay ransom. So,
a ~rtain Count Guy, who was the Lord of Ponthieu
where arold's diastear happened, seized him, in.
stead of believing him lik hospitable and Christia
lord a he ought to have done, and expected to
mae a very good thing of it.

But Haold seat off immediately to D e William
of Normandy, complaining of this treatment; and
the Duke no sooner beard of it than he ordered
Harold to be eaeorted to the ancient town of Bonenj
where he then was, and where he received him as
an honored guest. Now, some writers tell UB that
Edward the Confessor, who was by this thie old
and had no children, had made & will, appointing
Doke William of Normandy his successor, and had
informed the Duke of his having done so. There
is no doubt that he was anxious about his anecessor;
because he had even invited over, from broad,
EnWAnoD Tv OUTLAw, a son of Ironside, who had
come to England with his wife and three children,
but whom the King had strangely refused to see
when he did come, and who had died in London
suddenly (princes were terribly liable to sudden
death in those days), and had been buried in Saint
Pal's Cathedral. The King might possibly have
made such a will; or, having always been fond of the
Normans, he might have encouraged Norman Wil-
liam to aspire to the English crown, by something
that he said to him when he was staying at the
English court. But, certainly William did now
aspire to it; and known that Harold would be a
powerful rival, he called together a great assembly
of his nobles, offered Harold his daughter Apan
in marriage, informed him that he meant on ing
Edward's death to claim the English crown as his
own inheritaneanc r, and rured Haold then and there
to swear to aid him. Harold, being in the Duke's
power, took this oath upon the Missal, or Prayer-

60 A cawt's mfloTr or OtAo n.
book It i good example of the personal of the
monks, that this Missal, instead of being place
upon a table, was placed upon a tub which, wheq n
Harold had sworn,, s novereand shown to b
full of dead men's bones bones, as the monks
pretended, of saints. This was supposed to make
Harold's oath a great deal more impressBve and
binding. As if the great name of the Creator of
Heaven and earth could be made more solemn by
a knuckle bone, or a double-tooth, or a finger-nail,
of Duantanl
Within a week or two after Harold's return to
England, the dreary old Confessor was found to be
dying. After wandering in his mind like a very
weak old man, he-died. As he had put himself en-
tirely in the hands of the monks when he was alive,
they praised him lustily when he was dead. They
had gone so far, already, as to persuade him that
he could work miracles; and had brought people:
afflicted with a bad disorder of the skin, to hibm
to be touched and cored. This was called "touch-
ing for the King's Evil," which afterwards became'
a royal custom. You know, however, Who really,
touched the sick, and healed them; and you know
His sacred name is not among the deaty line of
human kings.

SaGLAx D moo nR HAROLD T RmOOD, afm Con-
HATnoL wan s rowned King of Zngland on the
rery day of the maudlin Confessors fnineraL He
mad good need to be qUdic about it. When the
aws reached Norman William, hunting in bis park
t Rouen, he dropped his bow, returned to hik pa-
sl, called hia nobles to counel, and presently
nt ambassador to Harold, calling on him to keep
Soath and resign the Crown. Harold would do
o such thing. The barons of Frauoe league to-
ether round Duke William for the invasion of Eng
And. Duke William omise freely to dietribute
english wealth and English lands among theti.
he Pope snt to Normandy a consecrated banner,
at a ring containing a hair which he warranted to
ave grown the on the head of Saint Petr. a besed
e enterprises and cursed Hareold and requested
t the Normanm would pay "Peter's Pen e- or
tax to himself of a penny a year on every house -
little moe regularly in fatre, if they could make
King Harold had a rebel brother in lander,
he was a vassal of HjA.o Hann King of
orway. This brother, and d Norwegian king,
ining their forces against England, with Dluke
Millan'I help, won a fglht in whikh the Englis

were commanded by two nobles; and then besieged&
York. Harold, who was waiting for the Normans
on the coast at Hastings, with his army, marched
to Stamford Bridge upon the river Derwent to give
them instant battle.
He found them drawn up in a hollow circle,1
marked out by their shining spears. Riding round
this circle at a distance, to survey it he saw a brave
figure on horseback, in a blue mantle and a bright
helmet, whose horse suddenly stumbled and threw,
"Who is that man who has fallen?" Harold
asked of one of his captains.
S"The King of Norway," he replied.
"He is a tall and stately king," said Harold
"but his end is near."
He added, in a little while, "Go yonder to my
brother, and toll hn, if he withdraw his troops, he
shall be Earl of Northumberland, and rich and
powerful in England."
The captain rode away and Save the message.
"What will he give to my friend the King o:
Norway?" asked the brother.
"Seven feet of earth for a grave," replied th
"No more?' returned the brother, with a m
"The King of Nlorway begin a tall man, pe
hapa a little more," replied the captain.
"Ride ba" said the brother, "d the t "and tellKin
Harold-to make ready for the fight"
Be did so, very soon. And such a fight Kis
Harod led against that force, that his brother, a

- s

the Norwegian King, and every chief of note in al
their host, except the Norwegian King' son, Olave,
to whom he e gav hone able diam al, were le dead
upon the feld. The victorious army marhebd to
York. As King Harold eat there at the feast, in
the midst of all his company, a stir wa heard at
the doors; and messenger all covered with mire
rom riding far and fast through broken ground
eame hurrying in, to report that the Normans had
landed in England.
The intelligence was true. They ha been tossed
abont by country winds, and some of their ships
had been wrecked. A part of their own ahore, to
which they had been driven back, wa sarewn with
Norman bodies. But they had once more made sail,
led by the Duke's own galley, a present from his
wife, upon the prow whereof the figure of a golden
boy stood pointing towards England. By day, the
banner of the three Lions of Normandy, the diverse
coloured sails, the gilded vanes, the many decoratons
of this gorgeous ship, had glittered in the man and
sunny water; by night, a light had parked like a
star at her mast-head. And now, encamped near
Hastings, with their leader lying in the old Romana
asetle of Pevensey, the English retiring in al di-
rections, the land for miles around scorched and
smoking, fred and pillaged, was the whole Norman
power, hopeful and strong on English ground.
Harold broke up the feat and hurried to London.
Within a week, his army was ready. He sent out
pies to asertain the Norma strength. William
took then, eased t the to be led through hi whole

camp, and then dismissed. "The Normeant, said
these spiea to Harold, "are not bearded on the
upper lp r we English are, but are shorn- They
are priests." "My men," replied Harold, with a
laugh, "will find those priests good soldiersd"
"The SBaons," reported Duke William's out'
posts of Norman soldiers, who were instrneted to
retire as King Harold's army advanced, "rush on
as through their pillaged country with the ftry of
"Let them come, and come soon!" said Dfuke
Some proposals for a reconciliation were Asde,
but were soon abandoned. In the middle of the
month of October, in the year one thousand and
sixty-six, the Normans and the English came front
to ront. All night the armies lay encamped before
each other, in a part of the country then called
SBelao, now called (in remembrance of them) Battle.
With the firt dawn of day, they arose. There, in
the faint light, were the English on a hill; a wood
behind them; in their midst, the Royal banner, re-
presenting a fighting warrior, woven in gold thread,
adorned with precious stones; beneath the banner,
a it rustled in the wind, stood King Harold on
foot, with two of s remaining brothers by hi side;
around them, 60l and silent as the dead, clustered
the whole English army every soldier covered
by his shield, and bearing in his hand his dreaded
English battle-axe.
On an opposite hill, In three lines, archer, foot-
soldiers, horsemen, was the Norman fore. Of a

sudden, great battle-cry, "God help ust" burst
from the Norman lines. The English answered with
their own battle-cry, "God's RoodI Holy RoolI"
The Normans then came sweeping down the bill to
attack the English.
There was one tall Norman Knight who rode
before the Norman army on a prancing horse, throw-
ing up his heavy sword and catching it, and singing
of the bravery of his countrymen. An Engish Knight,
who rode out from the English force to meet him,
fell by this Knight's hand. Another English Knight
rode out, and he fell too. But then a third rod out,
and killed the Norman. This was in the -firt be-
ginning of the fight. t soon raged everywhere.
The English, keeping side by side in a great
mass, cared no more for the showers of Norman
arrows than if they bad been showers of Norman
rain. When the Norman horsemen rode against
them, with their battle-aes they cut men and horses
down. TheNormans gaveway. The English messed
forward. A cry went forth among the Norman troops
that Duke William was killed. Duke Wflam took
off his helmet, in order that his face might be dis-
tinetly seen, and rode along the line before his men
This gave them coage. As they turned again to
face the English, some of their Noran horse divided
the pursuing body of the English from the rest, and
thus all that foremost portion of the English army
fell, fighting bravely. The main body sill remain-
ing fim, heedless of the Norman arows, and with
their battle-a.es cutting down the crowds of horse
men when they rode up, like forests of young tres,

Duke William pretended to retreat. The eager
English followed. The Norman army closed again,
and fell upon them with great slaughter.
"Still," said Dfke William, "there are thousands
of the English, firm as rocks around their King.
Shoot upward, Norman archers, that yor arrows
may fall down upon their faces 1"
The sun rose high, and sank, and the battle
still raged. Through all the wild October day, the
clash and din resounded in the air. In the red sun-
set, uad in the white moonlight, heaps upon heaps
of dead men lay strewn, a dreadful spectacle, all
over the ground. King Harold, wounded with an
arrow in the eye, was nearly blind His brothers
were already killed. Twenty Norman Knights, whose
battered armour had lashed fiery and golden in the
sunshine all day long, and now looked silvery in
the moonlight, dashed forward to seise the Royal
banner from the English Knights and soldiers, still
faithfully collected round their blinded King. The
King received a mortal wound, and dropped. The
English broke and fled The Neorans rallied, and
the day was lost.
O what a eight beneath the moon and stars,
when lights were shining in the tent of the victorious
Dnike William, which was pitched near the spot
where Harold fell and he and his knights were
carousing, within--and soldiers with torches, going
slowly to and fro, without, sought for the corpse
of arold among piles of dead- and the Warrior,
worked i gon gol thread and precious stones, lay

low, all torn an soiled with blood- and the *tee
Norman Lions kept wtch over the field!

mGLAMo UNDE R Wlji'AMm T2E P5aaT, Tn VORtA
tUpo the ground where the brave Harold fell,
William the Norman afterwards founded a abbey,
which, under the name of Battle Abbey, was .a ric
and splendid place through many a troubled yer,
though now it Is a grey ruin overgrown with ivy.
But the first work he had to do, was to conquer
the English thoroughly; and that, as you know by
this time, was hard work for any mmn.
He raged several counties; be burned and
plundered many towns; he laid waste scored upon
scores of miles of pleasant country; he destroyed
innumeable lives. At length SBAr~, Archbishop
of Canterbury, with other representatives of the
clergy and the people, went to his caip, and rb-
nitted to him. Eno the insiignficat son of Ed-
nund Ironside, was proclaimed King by other, but
aothoig came of it. He Red to Scotlad .fterards,
where his sister, who was young and bpatiftdl,
aied the Soottish King. Edgar mrseef we
Iot important enough for anybody to eare muh
bout him.
On Obristrnt Day, William was crowned In
WestminsteAbbey, under Athe title of Wnaa man

A O nMns rarear OY "arD.

FIrBT; bu bet he is best known as Wn T Co-
Qpunos. It Was a strange coronation. One of the
bishops who performed the ceremony asked the
Nortnans, in French, if they would have Duke
William for their kingP They answered Yes. An-
other of the bishops put the same question to the
SBaons, in English. They too answered Yes, with
a loud shout. The noise being heard by a guard
of Normal horse-soldiers outside, was mistaken for
resistance on the part of the English. The guard
instantly set fe to the neighboring houses, and a
tumult ensued; in the midst of which the King,
being left alone in the Abbey, with a few priests
(and they all being in a terrible fright together),
was hurriedly crowned. When the'rown was placed
upon his head, he swore to govern the English as
well as the best of their own monares. I dare say
you think, as I do, that if we except the Great
Alfred, he might pretty easily have done that.
Number of the English nobles had been killed
in the last disastrous battle. Their estates, and the
estates of all the nobles who had fought against
him there, King William seized upon, and gave to
his own Norman knights and' obles. Many great
English families of the present time acquired their
English lands in th i way, and are very proud of it.
But what in got by force must be maintained by
force. These nobles were obliged to build castles
all over England, to defend their new property,
and,, do what he would, the King could neither
soothe nor quell th nane nation he wished. gra-
ndally introduced the Norman language and the

Norman customs; yet, for along time the great
body of the English remained sullen and revenge
fuL On his going over to Normandy, to visit his
subjects there, the oppressions of hi half-brother
OnD, whom he left in charge of his English king-
dom, drove the people ma&d The men of ent even
invited over, to take possession of Dover, their old
enemy Count Eustace of Boulogne, who had led the
fray wh hen he Dover man was slain at his own fir
side. The men of Hereford, aided by the Welsh,
and commanded by a chief named EDBnO Tfs Wan.,
drove the Normans out of their country. Some of
those who had been dispossessed of their lands,
banded together in the North of England; some, in
Scotland; some in the thick woods and marshes;
and whensoever they could fall upon the Norman,
or upon the English who had submitted to the Nor-
mans, they fought, despoiled, and murdered, like
the desperate oate ou that they wer. Conspiraces
were set on foot for a general massacre of the NoWr
mans, like the old massacre of the Danes. In short,
the English were in a murderous mood all through
the kingdom.
ing lWilliam, faring he might lose his conquest,
came back, and tried to pacify the London people
by soft words. He then set forth to repress the
country people by stern deeds. Among the towns
which he besieged, and whee he killed and maimed
the inhabitants without any distinction, sparing none,
young or old, armed or unarmed, were Oxford,
Warwick, Leicester, Nottingham, Derby, Lincoln,
York. In all these places, and in many other, are

Sd wd rd worked their utmost horrors, and made
the land dreadful to behold. The stiams and rivers
were discoloured with blood; the sky was blackened
with smoke; the fields were wastes of ashes; the
waysids were heaped up with dead Such are the
fatal results of conquest and ambition Although
William was a harh and angry man, I do not sup-
pose that he deliberately meant to work this shock-
ing ruin, when he invaded England. But, what he
had got by the strong hand, he could only keep by
the strong hand,and in so doing he made England
a great grave.
Two sons of Harold, by name EnxDMU and
Gown%, canme over from Ireland, with seme ships,
against the Normans, but were defeated. This was
scarcely done,- when the outlaws in the woods so
harsased York, that the Governor sent to the king
for help. The King despatched a general and a
large force -to occupy the town of Durham The
Bishop of that place met the general outside the
town, and warned him not to enter, as he would be
in danger there. The general cared nothing for the
warning, and went in with all his men That night,
on every hill within eight of IDurham, signal fires
were seen to blae. When the morning dawned, the
English, who had assembled in great strength, forced
the gates, rushed into the town, and slew the Nor-
mans every one. The English afterwards besought
the Danes to come and help them. The Danea
came, with two hundred and forty ship. The out-
lawed nobles joined them; they captured York, and
drove the Normsan out of that city. Then, Wil-

Ham bribed the Danes to go away; and took esch
vengeance on the English, that all the former fir
and sword, moke and ashes, death and ruin, were
nothing compared with it. In melancholy songs,
and doleful stories, it was sill sng and told by
cottage fires on winter evenings, hundred years
afterwards, how, in those dreadful days of the Nor-
mans, there wea not, from the River Huaber to
the River Tyne, one inhabited village left, nor one
cultivated field-how there was nothing but a dis-
mal ruin, where the human creatures and the beasts
lay dead together.
The outlaws had, at this time, what they called
a Camp of Refuge, in the midst of the fens of Cam-
bridgeshire. Protected by those marshy grounds
which were difficult of approach, they lay among
the reeds and rushes, and were hidden by the miste
that rose up from the watery earth. Now, there
also was, at that time, over the sea in landers,
an Englihman named H] LRWAR, whose father had
died in his absence, and whose property bad been
given to a Norman. When he heard of this wrong
that had been done him (from such of the exled
yEnglish as chanced to wander into that country),
he longed for revenge; and joining the outlaws in
their camp of refuge, became their commander. He
was so good a soldier, that the Normans supposed
him to be aided by enchantment. William, even
after he had made a road three miles in length
across the Cambridgeehire marshes, on purpaos to
attack this supposed enchanter, thought it necessary
to engage an old lady, who pretended to be a sor

ceres, to come and do a little enehantmant in the
royal eaune. For this purpose she was pushed on
before the troops in a wooden tower; but Iereward
very soon disposed of this unfortunate soroeress,
by burning her, tower and all. The monks of the
convent of Ely near at hand, however, who were
fond of good living, and who found it very uncom-
fortable to have the country blockaded and their
supplies of meat and drink cut off, showed the king
a secret way of surprising the camp. So, Hereward
was soon defeated. Whether he afterwardq died
quietly, or whether he was killed after killing six-
teen of the men who attacked him (as some old
rhymes relate that he did), I cannot say. His defat
put an epd to the amp of Refuge; and, very soon
afternwrds, the King, victorious both in Scotland
and in England, quelled the last rebellious English
noble. He then smrronnded himself with Norman
lords, enriched by the property of English nobles;
had a great survey made of all the land in Eng-
land, which was entered as the property of its new
owners, on a roll called oomsday Book; obliged
the people to put out their fires and candles at a
certain hour every night, on the ringing of a bell
which was called The Curfew; introduced the Nor-
man dresses and manners; made the Norman mas-
ters everywhere, and the English, serats; turned
out the English bishops, and put Normans in their
places; and showed himself to be the Conqueror
But, even with hs own Normnss, he had a rest-
less lUfe. They were always hmugering and thirst-

Ing for the riches of the English; and the mre he
gave, the more they wanted. His priests were as
greedy as bhi soldiers. We know of only one Nor-
man who plainly told his master, the King, that he
had come with hin to England to do his duty as a
faithful servant, and that property taken by force
from other men had no charms for him. His name
was GOmwman. We should not forget his name, for
it is good to remember and to honor honest men.
Besides all these troubles, William the Conqueror
was troubled by quarrels tmong his sons. He had
three living. Ronanr, called OCuTHosn, because
of his short legs; WILLa.M, called Rurus or the
Red, from the colour of his hair; and Hmnmr, fond
of learning, and called, in the Norman language
BannUOao, or Fine Scholar. When Rober grew
up, he asked of his father the government of Nor-
mandy, which he had nominally possessed, as a
child, under his mother, MATA. The King re-
fusing to grant it, Robert became jealous and dis-
conntted; and happening one day, while in his
temper, to be ridiculed by his brothers who threw
water on him from a balcony as he was walking
before the door, he drew his sword, rshed up stairs,
and was only prevented by the King hmgelf from
putting them to death. That same night, he hotly
departed with some followers from his father's oot,
and endeavoured to taie the Castle of Bouen by
surprise. Failing in this, he shut himself up in
another Castle in Normandy, which the King be-
sieged, and where Robert one day unhorsed and
nearly killed him without knowing who he was.

He s iubmainfin when he discovered his father, and
the intercession of the queen and others, reeonciled
them; but not soundly; for Robert soon strayed
abroad, and went from court to court with his com-
plaints. He was a gay, careless, thoughtless felYow,
spending all he got on musicians and dancers; but
his mother loved him, d hi, and often, against the King's
command, supplied him with money through a mee-
sar named SAsox. At length the incensed King
swore he would tear out mson's eyes; and Sam-
son, tukiing that his only hope of safety was in
becoming a monk, became one, went on such errands
no more, and kept his eyes in his head.
All this time, from the turbulent day of his strange
coronation, the Conqueror had been struggling, you
see, at any cost of cruely and bloodshed, to main-
tain what he bad seized. All his reign, he struggled
still, with the same object ever before him. ]e was
a stern bold man, and he succeeded in it.
He loved money, and was particular in his eat-
ing, but he had only leisure to indulge one other
passion, and that was his love of hunting. He
carried it to such a height that he ordered whole
villages and towns to be swept away to make forests
for the deer. Not satisfied with sixty-eight Royal
Forests, he laid waste an immense tract of country,
to form another in Hampehire, called The .New
Forest. The many thousands of miserable eaents
who saw their little houses pulled down, and them-
selves and children turned into the open country
without a shelter, detested him for this morcileas
addition to their many asferings; and when, in the

twenty-fst year of is reign (which proved to be
the last), he went over to Ronen, England was
fll of hatred against him, as if every leaf on every
tree in al all h loyal Foress had been a oure upon
his head. I the New Forest, his son Richard (for
he bad four sone) had been gored to death by a
Stag; and the people said that this so crelly-made
Forest would yet be fatal to others of the Con-
queror's race.
He was engaged in a dispute with the King of
France about some territory. While he stayed at
Rouen, negoojating with that King, he kept his
bed and took medicines: being advised by his phy-
sicins to do so, on account of having grown to
an unwieldy size. Word being brought to him that
the King of France made light of this, and joked
about it, he swore in a great rage that he should
rue his jests. He assembled his army, marched into
the disputed territory, burnt his old way I the
vines, the crops, and frit, and set the town of
Mantes on fire. But, in an evil hour; for, as he
rode over the hot ruins, his horse, getting his hoof
upon some burning embers, started, threw him for-
watd agahst the pommel of the saddle, and gave
him a mortal hurt. For six weeks he lay dying in
a monastery near Rouen, and then made his ill,
giving England to William, Normandy to Robt,
and five thousand pounds to Henry. And now, his
violent deeds lay heavy on his mind. He ordered
money to to be to many Engish churches and
monasteries, and which was much better repeat-
ance released bi prisoners of state, some ,of

whom had been confined in his dngeons twenty
It was a September morning, and the sna was
rising, when the King was awakened from slumber
by the sound of a church bell "What bell is that?"
he faintly asked. They told him it as the bell of
the chapel of Saint Mary. "I commend my aodl,"
said he, "to Maryl" and died.
Think of his name, The Conqueror, and then
consider how he lay in deathI The moment he
was dead, his physicians, priests, and nobles, not
knowing what contest for the throne might now
take place, or what might happen in it, hastened
away, each man for himself and his own property;
the merenary servants of the court began to rob
and plunder, the body of the King, in the indecent
strife, was rolled from the bed, and lay, alone, for
houre, upon the ground. 0 Conqueror, of whom so
many great names are proud now, of whom so many
great names thought nothing then, it were better to
have conquered one tre heart, than England
By and by, the priests came creeping in with
prayers and candles and a good knight, named
Hnnrum, undertook (which no one else would do)
to convey the body to Caen, in Normandy, in order
that it might be buried in SL Stephen's Church
there, which the Conqueror had founded. But fire,
of which he had made unch bad use in his life,
seemed to follow him of itself in death. A great
conagraion broke out in the town when the body
was placed in the and those present run-

ning oat to extinguish the ames, it was once again
left alone.
It was not even buried in peae. It was about
to be let down, in its Royal robea, into a tomb
near the high altar, in presence of a great con-
course of people, when a loud voice in the crowd
cried out, "Thin ground is minel Upon it, stood
my father' house. This King despoiled me of both
ground and house to build this church. In the great
name of Gon, I here forbid his body to be covered
with the earth that is my right'l The priests and
bishops present, knowing te spoake's right, and
knowing that the King had often denied him justice,
paid him down sixty shilings for the grve. Even
then, the corpse was not at rest. The tomb was
too small, and they tried to force it in. It broke,
a dreadful smell arose, the people hurried out into
the air, and, for the third time, it wa-left alone.
Where were the Conqueror's three sons, that
they were not at their father's burial? Robert was
lounging among maistels, dancers, and gamesters,
in France or Germany. Henry was carrying his
five thousand pounds safely away in a convenient
chest he had got made. William the Red was
hurrying to England, to lay hands upon the Royal
treasure and the cron.

A OBw.r's emIroRy o0 eaamwasn

BawINGO an in wnLr TAiM T aHo SO cVAJS

WIIAM Tea in breathless haste, secured
the three great forts of Dover, Pevenasy, and
Hastings, and made with hot speed forWinchester,
where the Royal treasure was kept. The treasurer
delivering him the keys, he found that it amounted
to sixty thousand pounds in silvSr, besides gold
and jewels. Possessed of this wealth, he soon per-
suaded the Archbishop of Canterbury to crown him,
and became William the Second, King of England.
Ruft was no sooner on the throne, than he
ordered into prison again the unhappy esate captives
whom his father had set free, and directed a gold-
smith to ornament his father's tomb profusely with
gold and silver. It would have been more dutiful
in him to have attended the sick Conqueror when
he was dying; but England, itself, like his Red
King who ones governed it, has sometimes made
expensive tombs for dead men whom it treated
shabbily when they were alive.
The King's brother, Robert of Normandy, sme
ing quite pontent to be only Duke of that country;
and the King's other brother, Fne-Sholar, being
quiet enough with bia five thousand pounds in a
chest; the King flattered himself, we may suppose,
with the hope of an easy reign. But easy reigns

were diaicult to have in those days. The turbu-
lent bishop Ono (who had blessed the Norman
army at the Battle of Hastings, and who, I dare
say, took all the credit of the vitoty to himselO
soon began, in concert with some powerful Nor
man nobles, to trouble the Red King.
The truth seems to be that this bishop and his
friends, who had lands in England and lands in
Normandy, wished to hold both under one So-
vereign and greatly preferred a thoughtless good-
natured person, such a" Robert was, to Rufts;
who, though far fro being an amiable man in
any respect, was keen, and not to be imposed
upon. They declared in Robert's favor, nd re-
tied to their castles (those castles were very trouble-
some to Kinge) in a sullen humour. The Red King,
seeing the Normans thus falling from him, revenged
himself upon them by appealing to the English;
to whom he made a variety of promises, wbich he
never meant to perform in particular, promises
o soften the cruelty of the Forest Laws; and who,
n tu.n, so aided him with their valour, that Ono
was besieged in the Castle of Roehester, and forced
to abandon it, and to depart hom England for
yver: whereupon the other rebellions Norman nobles
were soon reduced nd scattered.
Then, the Red King went over to lNotmaw y,
where the people offered greatly under the loose
eale of Duke Robert. The King's object was to
seise upon the Duke's dominions This the Dnke,
f course, prepa red reats; and miserable war
between the two brothers seemed inevitable, when

the powerful nobles on both sides, who had eGnm
so much of war, interfered to prevent t. A treaty
was made. Each of the two brothers agreed to
give up something of his claims, and that the
longer-liver of the two should inherit all the do-
minions of the other. When they had come to this
loving understanding, they embraced and joined
their forces against ine-Scholar; who had bought
some territory of Robert with a part of hi five
thousand pounds, and was considered a dangerous
individual in consequence.
t. Michaers Mount, in Normandy (there is an-
other St. ichael's Mount, in Cornwall, wonder-
fully like it), was then, as it is now, a strong
place perched upon the top of a high rock, around
which, when the tide is in, the sea flows, leaving
no road to the mainland. In this place, Fine
Bcholar shut himself up with his soldiers, and here
he wa closely besieged by hi two brothers. At
one time, when he was reduced to great distress
for want of water, the generous Robert not only
permitted his men to get water, but sent Fine-
Scholar wine from hi own table; and, on being
remonstrated with by the Red King, said, "What!
shall we let our own brother die of thirst Where
shall we get another, when he is gone I" At an-
other time, the Red King riding alone on the shore
of the bay, looking up at the Oastle, was taken
by two of Fine-Scholar's men, one of whom was
about tokillhim, when he cried out, "Hold, kmavel
I am the King of England The story says that
the soldier raised hir from the ground respectfully

and humbiy, and that the King took him into bin
service. The story may or may not be xnee but
at Ay rate it Is tre that ine-Scholar could not
hold out against his united brothers, and that he
abandoned Mount St. Mihael, and wandered about
- as poor and forlorn a other scholars have been
sometimes known to be.
The Scotchd King's
time, with the loss of their King, Malcolm, and
his son. The Welsh became unquiet too. Against
them, Rufus was less sueceusful; for they fought
among their native mountains, and did great ee-
oution on the King's troops. Robert of Normandy
became unquiet too; and, complauimin that his
brother the King did not faithfully perform hs
part of their agreement, took up arms, and ob.
taind assistance from the King of France, whom
Rauhs, in the end, bought off with vast sums of
money, England became unqUiet too. Lord Mow-
bray, the powerful Earl of Northumberland, headed
a great conspiracy to depose tie. King, and to
place upon the throne, BErnpmm, the Conquerors
nephew. The plot was discovered; all the chief
conspirators wen seized; some were ined, some
were pat in prison, some were put to death. The
Earl of Northumberland himself was shut up in
a dungeon beneath Windsor Castle, where he died,
an old man, thrty long years afterwards. The
Priests in England were more unquiet than any
other class or power; for the Red King treated
them with such *mall ceremony that he reftsed
to appoint new biphops or arehbishops when tht

old ones died, but kept all the wealth belong-
ing to those offers, in hi own hands. In re-
turn for this, the Priests wrote his life when he
was dead, and abused him well I am inclined to
think, myself, that there was little to choose be-
tween the Priests and the Red King; that both
sides were greedy and designing; and that they
were fairly matched.
The Red King was false of heart, selfsah, co-
vetous, and mean. He had a worthy minister in
his favorite. Ralph, nicknamed for almost every
famous person had a nickname in thoem rough days
- Flambard, or the Firebrand. Once, the King
being ill, became penitent, and made AaSR., a
foreign priest and a good man, Archbishop of
Canterbury. But he no sooner got well again, than
he repented of his repentance, and persisted in
wrongfully keeping to himself some of the wealth
belonging to the archbishopric. This led to violent
disputes, which were aggravated by there being in
Rome at that time two rival Popes; each of whom
declared he was the only real original infallible
Pope, who couldn't make a mistake. At last, An-
eelm, knowing the Red King's ,Qaracer, and not
feeling hiwmelf safe in England, askedleave to re-
turn abroad. The Red King gladly gave it; for
he khew hat s on as A a imn -ws gone, he
could begin to store up all the Canterbury money
ag ln, for his own use
By such means, and by taxing and oppreeoing
the English people in every possible way, the Rod
King became very rich. When he wanted money

for any purpose, he raised it by some means or
other, and eared nothing for the justice he did,
or the misery h caused. Having the opportunity
of buying frAwon obert the whole duchy of WNr-
mandy for five years, he taxed he English people
more than ever, and made theyery convents sell
their plate and valuables to supply him with the
means to maethe purchase. But he was a quick
and eager in putting down revolt as he was in
raising money; for, a part of the Norman people
objecting very naturally, I think to being
sold in this way, he headed an army against them
with all the speed and energy of his father. He
was so impatient, that he embarked for Normandy
in a great gale of wind. And when the sailors
told him it was dangerous to go to ses in such
angry weather, he replied, "Hoist sail and awyl
Did you ever hear of asking who was drowned?"
Yon will wonder how it was that even the care-
less Robert came to sell hi dominion. It hap-
pened thus. It had long been the ncutom for many
English people to make journeys to Jerusalem
which were called pilgrimages, in order that they
might pray beside the tomb of Our Saviour there.
Jerusalem belonging to the Turks, and the Turks
hating Christianity, these Christian travellers were
often insulted and ll-used. he Pilgrims bore it
patiently for some time; hut at length a remarkable
man, of great earnestness and eloquence, called
PeTin rTn H 1m began to preach in various
places against the Turks, and to declare that it
was the duty of good Christ.ans to drive away

those unbelievers rom the tomb of Our Saviour,
and to take possession of it, and protect it. An
excitement smnh as the world had never known be-
fore was created. Thousands tnd thousands of
men of all ransh and conditions departed for Je-
rusalem to make war against the Tnrks. The war
is called in history the first Crusade; and every
OrCsader wore a cross marked on his right shoul-
All the Crusaders were not zealous Christiane.
Among them were vast numbers of the restless,
idle, profligate, and adventurous spirits of the time.
Some became Crusaders for the love of change;
some, in the hope of plunder; some, because they
had nothing to do at home; some, because they did
what the Priests told them; some, because they
liked to see foreign countries; some, because they
were fond of knocking men about, and would as
soon knock a T a Trk about a a Chritian. Robert
of Normandy may have been induenced by all these
motives; and by a kind desire, besides, to save the
Christian Pilgrims from bad treatment in future.
He wanted to raise a number of armed men, and
to go to the Oresade. He could not do so without
money. He had no money; and he sold his do-
minions to his brother, the Red King, for five years
With the large smn he thus obtained, he fitted out
his Crusaders gallantly, and went away to Jeru-
salem in martial state. The Red King, who made
money out of everything, stayed at home, busily
squeezing more money out of Normns and Eng-

After three years of great hardseip and enfer-
ing- from shipwreck at ea; from travel in strange.
lands; from hunger, thirst, and fever, upo the
burning sands of the desert; and from the fury of
the Tnurk the valiant rusaders got possession
of Our Baviour's tomb. The Turks were sil re-
sisting and fighting bravely, but this success in-
creased the general desire in Europe to join the
Crusade. Another great French Duke was pro-
posing to sell his dominions for a term to the rieh
Red ping, when the Red King's reign came to a
sudden and violent end.
You have not forgotten the New Forest which
the Conqueror made, and which the miserable people
whose homes he had laid waste, so hated. The
mselty of the Forest Laws, and the torture and
death they brought upon the peasantry, increased
this hatred. The poor persecuted country-people
believed that the New Forest was enchanted. They
said that in thnder-storms, and on dark nights,
demons appeared, moving beneath the branches of
the gloomy trees. They said that a terrible spectre
had foretold to Norman hunters that the Red King
should be punished there And now, in the plea-
sant season of May, when theRedKing had reigned
almost thirteen years; and a second Prince of the
Conqueror's blood another Richard, the son of
Duke Robert -- was killed by an arrow in ties
dreaded Forast; the people said that the second
time was not the last, and that there was another
death to come.
Tt was a lonely Forest, accursed in the people's

A ownwl' mafstoy or flGLASn.

hearts for the walked deeds that had been done to
make it; and no man save the King and his Cou-
tiers and Huntemen, liked to stray there. But, in
reality, it was like any other forest. In the spring,
the green leaves broke out of the buds; in the sum-
mer, flourished heartily, and made deep shade;
in the winter, shrivelled and blew down, and lay
in brown heaps on the moss. Some trees were
stately, and grew high and strong; some had fallen
of themselves; some were felled by the forester's
axe; somee were hollow, and the rabbits burrowed
at their roots; some few were struck by lightning,
and stood white and bare. There were hill sides
covered with rich fern, on which the morning dew
so beautifully sparkled; there were brooks, where
the deer went down to drink, or over which the
whole herd bounded, flying from the arrows of the
huntomen; there were sunny glades, and solemn
places where but little light came through the rust-
ling leaves. The songs of the birds in the New
Forest were pleasanter to hear than the shouts of
fighting men outside; and even when the Red King
and his Court came hunting through its solitudes,
losing loud and riding hard, with a jingling of
stirrps and bridles and knives and daggers, they
did much loss harm there than among the English
or Normano, and the stags died (as they lived) far
easier than the people.
Upon a day in August, the Red King, &ow re-
conciled to his brother, Fine-Scholar, came with a
great train to hunt in the New Forest. Fine-Seholar
was of the party. They were a merry party, and

had lain all night at Malwood-Keep, a hEuting-
lodge in the forest, where they had made good
cheer, both at supper and breakfast, and had drunk
a deal of wine. The party dispersed in various
direction, as the custom of hunters then was. The
King took with him only Sm WAnnn TntnaL,
who was a famous sportsman, und to whom he had
given, before they mounted horse that morning,
two fine arrows.
The lat time the King was ever seen alive,
he was riding with Sir Walter Tyrrel, and their
dogs were bhuting together.
It was almost night, when a poor charcoal
burner, passing through the Forest with his cart,
came upon the solitary body of & dead man, shot
with an arrow in the breast, and still bleeding.
He got it into his cart. It was the body of the
King. Shaken and tubled, with its red beard all
whitened with lime and clotted with blood, it was
driven in the cart by the charcoal burner next day
to Winchester Cathedral, where it ws received
and buried.
Sir Walter Tyrrel, who escaped to Normandy,
and claimed the protection of the King of France,
swore in France that the Ied King was suddenly
shot dead by an arrow from n unseen hand, while
they were hunting together; that e was fearful of
being suspected as the King's murderers and that
he instantly set spura to his horse, and fled to the
sea-shore. Others declared that the King and Sir
Walter Tyrrel were-hunting in company, a little
before sunset, standing in bushes opposite oe an-

other, when & stag came between them. That
the King drew his bow and took aim, but the
siring broke. That the King then cried '"Shoot
Walter, in the Devil's name" That Sir Walter
shot. That the arow glanced against a tree,
was turned aside from the tag, and altnck the
King from his horse, dead.
By whose hand the ied King really fell, and
whether that hand dispatched the arrow to hi.
breast by accident or by design, is only known to
Gon. Some think his brother may have caused
him to be killed; but the Red King had made so
many enemies, both among priests and people,
that suspicion may reasonably rest upon a less un-
natural murderer. Men know no more than that
he was found dead in the Nw Forest, the New Forest, which the
suffering people had regarded as a doomed ground
for his race.

FnB-Soaona, on hearing of the Red King's
death, hurried to Winchester with as much speed
as B~Rus himself had made, to seize the Royal
treasure. But te the keeper of the treasure, who had
been one of the hunting-party in the Forest, made
haste to Winchester too, and, arriving there at about
the same time, refteed to yield it up. Upon this,

Fine-Scholat drew hi sword, and threatened to kill
the trasnrer; who might have paid for his felity
with his life, but that he knew longer reistance to be
useless when he found the Prince supported by a
company of powerful barons, who declared they
were determined to make him King. The treasurer,
therefore, gave up the money and Jewels of the
Crown: and on the third dy after the death of the
Bed King, being a Sunday, Fine-Scholar stood be-
fore the high altar in Wesarinster Abbey, and made
a solemn declaration that he would resign the Ohuch
property which hie brother had seized; that he would
do no wrong to the nobles; and that he would
restore to the peopleEd the s of E the Con-
fessor, with all the improvements of WillUam the
Conqueror. So began the reign of 'nre Hans
Tra Finaer
The people were attached to their new King,
both because he had known dtisreseee, and because
he was aan Eglis by birth and not a Norn a
To strength this last hold upon them, the King
wished to may an English lady; and could think
of no other wife than MAf D iHn Goon, the Aaughter
of the King of Scotland. Although this good Princess
did not love the King, she was so affected by the
representations the nobles made to her of the great
charity it would be in her to unite the Norman and
Saon races, and prevent hard and blooded
between them for the future, that she coneented'to
become hls wife. After some disputing among the
priests, who said that as she had been ln a convent
in'her youth, and had worn the vell of a nno, he

could not lawfiuly be married against which the
Princess stated that her sent, with whom she had
lived in her youth, bad indeed sometimes thrown a
piece of black stuff over her, but for no other reason
than because the nun'' veil was the only dress the
conquering Normans respected in rl or woman,
and not because she had taken the vows of a nun,
which she never had she was declared free to
marry, and was made King Henry's Queen. A good
Queen she was; beautiful, kind-hearted, and worthy
of a better husband than the King.
For he was a running and unscrupulou man,
though firm and clever. He cere very little for
his word, and took any means to gain his ends.
All this is shown in his treatment of his brother
Robert Robert, who had suffered him to be re-
freshed with water, and who had sent him the wine
from his own table, when he was shut up, with the
crows fying below him, parched with thirst, in the
castle on the top of St. Michael's Mount, where his
Red brother would have let him die:
Before e te King began to deal with Robert, he
removed and disgraced all the favorite of the late
King; who were for the most part base characters,
much detested by the people. Flmbard, or Fire-
brand, whom the late King had made Bishop of
XDurham, of all things in the world, Henry im-
prisoned in the Tower but Firebrand was a great
joker and a jolly companion, and made himself so
popular with his guards that they pretended to
know nothing about a long rope that was sent into
bis prison at the bottom of a deep iagon of wine.

The guards took the wine, and Firebrand took the
rope; with which, when they were fast asleep, he
let himself down from a window in the night, and
so got cleverly aboard ship and away to Normandy.
Now Robert, when his brother Fine-Bcholar came
to the throne, was still absent in the Holy Land.
Henry pretended that Robert had been made Sove-
reign of that country; and he had been away so
long, that the ignorant people believed it. But,
behold, when Henry had been some time King of
England, Robert came home to Normandy; having
leisurely returned from Jerusalem through Italy, in
which beautiful country he had enjoyed himself very
much, and had married a lady as beautiful as itself!
In Normandy, he fond d Firebrand waiting to urge
him to assert his claim to the English crown, and
declare war against King Henry. This, after great
loss of time in feasting and dancing with his beauti-
ful Italian wife among his Norman friend, he at
last did.
The English in general were on King Henry's
side, though many of the Normans were on Robert's.
But the English sailors deserted the King, and took
a great part of the English fleet over to Normandy;
so that Robert came to invade this country in no
foreign vessels, but in English ships. The virtuous
Anselm, ho, however, whom Henry had invited ack
from abroad, ad, and made archbishop of anterbury,
was steadfast in the King's cause; and it was so
well supported that the two armies, instead of fight-
ing, made a peace. Poor Robert, who trusted any-
body and everybody, readily trusted his brother,

92 A OlL'8 fmaTORr OWr MOLAn>.
the King; and agreed to go home and receive
pension from England, on condition that all hi
followers were fully pardoned. This the King ver
faithfully promised, but Robert was no sooner gon
than he began to punish them.
Among them was the Earl of Shrewsbury, who
on being summoned by the King to answer to fi
and forty accusations, rode away to one of hl
strong castles, shut himself up therein, called around
him his tenants and vassals, and fought for hi
liberty, but was defeated and banished. Rober
with all his faults, was so true to his word, tha
when he first heard of this nobleman having rse
against his brother, he laid waste the Earl of Shrews
bury's estates in Normandy, to show the King th
he would favor no breach of their treaty. Finding
on better information, afterwards, that the Earl'
only crime was having been his friend, he cams
over to England, in his old thoughtless warmer
hearted way, to intercede with the King, and re
iind him of the solemn promise to pardon all his
This confidence might have put the false King
to the blush, but it did not. Pretending to be very
friendly, he so surrounded his brother with spies
and traps, that Robert, who was quite in his power,
had nothing for it but to renounce his pension and
escape while he could. Getting home to Normandy,
and understanding the King better now, he naturally
allied himself with his old friend the Earl of Shrews-
pury, who had still thirty castles in that country.
This was exactly what Henry wanted. He imrun.

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