LESSON 1. 
THE LAND OF THE BRITONS. 
   The English People have lived so long in their own island home that it seems hard to believe they have not always been there.  Yet if a traveler hold paid a visit to their country seventeen hundred years ago, he would have found no English in the land.                                       
   He would have found that the country was called Britain, and that the people who lived in it were Britons.  He would have found also that the Britons were ruled by the Romans, men who came from the city of Rome, in Italy.  
The first time the Britons saw the Romans was fifty-five years before the birth of Christ.  A famous Roman general, Julius Caesar, had overcome Gaul.  He now made up his mind to cross over to Britain, and add that land to the Roman Empire.  
   He gathered a large fleet of ships filled with soldiers, and sailed to Britain.  The Britons lined the shore and tried to beat the Romans back.  They fought well, but in vain.  The Romans were the finest soldiers in the world at that time, and the Britons were defeated. 
But where, at this time, were the forefathers of the present English people?  To what part of the world must that traveler of seventeen hundred years ago have turned to discover them?  
   To find the Old English he would have had to cross the North Sea to Denmark, and to the flat lands about the mouth of the river Elbe in North Germany.  There lived the Jutes, the Angles, and the Saxons, three great tribes from whom the English have sprung.
   The people of these tribes were very rude and savage.  Although they were of the same blood and spoke the same language, they fought fiercely with each other.  They were farmers, hunters, and fishermen, and above all, sailors and fighting men.  Many of them were pirates, and drove their swift vessels over the waves in search of plunder.  They were known and feared in every country which lay around the North Sea. 
   About three hundred years after the birth of Christ, the ships of these pirates began to show themselves on the coasts of Britain.  For a long time the Saxons, as the Britons called them, only came to rob the towns and villages near the sea.  They would run their vessels ashore on some sandy beach, plunder the country about, and sail away again. 
   As time went on, the home-land of the Old English grew too small for them.  Some of them began to look elsewhere to find land of their own. 
   They thought of Britain, the country to which their warships had so often sailed for plunder.  They knew that it was easy to seize the land from the Britons.  For the Romans, the famous soldiers who ruled and guarded the Britons, had gone away from the island and left the Britons to defend themselves.  
   The Romans left Britain in A.D. 410, and about 450 a band of Jutes landed in Kent, and settled down to make their homes in the country.  This was the first step in the making of England.
   Now fleet after fleet sailed for Britain.  Band after band of Jutes, Angles, and Saxon landed on the east and south coasts, attacked the Britons, and took their land from them.  It was a long struggle, lasting more than a hundred and fifty years. 
   The Britons fought hard, but in vain.  Little by little they were driven back, piece by piece they lost their land, until they owned no more than Wales and Cornwall, where they live to this day.  
   The rest of the country was in the hands of the new-comers.  Of these the strongest tribe was the Angles, and because of this the country became known as Angle-land, England, and the people as English.   
From The Story of the English people.  

LESSON 2.
HOME, SWEET HOME. 
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home! home! sweet home!
There's no place like home! 
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain:
Oh, give me my lovely thatched cottage again;
The birds singing gaily that came at my call: 
Give me these, and the peace of mind dearer than all. 
Home! sweet, sweet home! 
There's no place like home! 
Payne. 

LESSON 3. 
WALKS IN LONDON. -- 1. 
   One morning, as we waited for breakfast, we noticed that among father's letters there was one from France.  This we knew because we saw the French postage stamp on the envelope.  My sister Mary had one like it in her stamp album; I had none, so I became impatient for father to come downstairs and give the stamp to me.  
   When father came down at last, and told us the news that was in the letter, I was so excited that I almost forgot the stamp.  
   "Mother," he said, "here is a better from my brother Charles.  He says that he and his son James have just arrived at Paris in safety, and that they will be here among us in five days' time.  He would like our children to know their cousin."
   We had never seen Cousin James, for he had been born and brought up in Japan; and we were glad to think that now we should be able to hear all about that great country in the East, and that we should also have the pleasure of showing him the sights of London.  
   One morning Uncle Charles and Jack arrived.  Jack was a fine little fellow, who, although somewhat sunburnt with his long journey, looked all the same strong and hardy. 
   The very next morning Mary and I took him to London Bridge railway station, and showed him London Bridge.  It was about nine o'clock and the bridge was crowded with men in tall hats, hurrying to their offices.  
   "I suppose this must be a procession," said James; "or is it some festival to-day?  Don't you think we had better step aside a little until the crowd has gone past?" 
   It was rude of us, I know, but I burst out laughing.  James could not understand why, until I told him that if we were to stand there until the crowd had gone past we should have to wait all day.  
   "Well, I heard in Japan that London was a busy place, but I did not expect to see a crowd like this," said James; and he stood and gazed in wonder at the people, the omnibuses, drays, wagons, and cabs moving in long lines across the bridge, and when he gazed on the Thames he saw a fine sight.  Mary and I were as proud of the grand old stream as though it belonged to us.  
   There were tall warehouses on each side of the broad river, and in front of them were cranes which dipped their chains and hooks into great vessels, and drew out bales of wool, boxes of oranges, timber, and many other things that came from foreign lands.
   Crowds of men, as busy as ants, moved to and fro, carrying great loads on their backs; and all the time barges and boats were going up and down the Thames, conveying coal, and hay, and straw, and timber. There were so many boats that James felt sure that their would collide with one another and sink. 
   "Look!" suddenly cried Mary; "the Tower Bridge is going to open!"  We turned as she spoke, and looked toward the great bridge which spans the Thames near the Tower of London.  
   It is something like two bridges, one above the other.  A minute before Mary spoke the lower bridge had been as full of people as the road on which we were standing.    Now a tall-masted vessel was drawing near, and a bell was ringing.  In a few moments all the traffic on the lower bride ceased. 
   Those who were on foot had either to go in lifts to the upper bridge and cross that way, or wait below with the 'buses an wagons until the lower bridge was open for traffic once more.  

LESSON 4. 
WALKS IN LONDON. -- 2. 
   Look! look! the lower bridge is opening.  The roadway, where horses and people have just been walking, has divided into two parts, and each part rises into the air like a great arm moving upwards.  Further and further asunder move these great arms, until they are quite out of the way of the ship's masts. 
   Then the ship comes through, and the arms slowly return to their places again, to form, the roadway.  In a few seconds people, 'buses, cabs, and drays are moving across the bridge once more. 
   "Well, that is the most wonderful thing I have ever seen!" exclaimed James.  "Now let us go to see the Tower.  I've read so much about it.  It was built by William the Conqueror, wasn't it?"  
   "Yes," said I; "but the Romans had a fortress there before his time." 
   On our way to the tower we passed a tall pillar which stands on the spot where the great fire of London broke out during the year 1666.  The fire spread and spread to the upper end of Fleet Street, burning St. Paul's Cathedral on its way. 
   James was delighted with the many interesting things he saw in the Tower.  The old "beef-eaters" he knew at once, for he had often seen them in pictures.  They are the guards of the Tower. and are all old soldiers. 
   James was sorry to see that the moat was dry; but he soon forgot that when we took him to see the part of the Tower in which the two young princes were murdered by the order of their cruel uncle more than four hundred years ago. 
   We spent a long time in the armory, looking at the coats of mail, suits of armor, old swords, spears, guns, and other things of which he had read in his English history at Tokyo. 
   Then away we went to see the crowns, the great diamonds, and the other jewels that have been worn by English kings and queens.  Last of all we visited the Traitor's Gate, through which many famous persons have passed to return no more. 
   While we were near the Tower, we looked at some of the great docks, filled with ships from all parts of the world.  Each year thousands of vessels bring their cargoes to the London docks. 
   We had now seen quite enough for one day; but next morning we were in the city again. We went to St. Paul's Cathedral, and when we had walked round it we went inside.
   When we came to the tombs of Wellington and Nelson, James would scarcely believed that he was really standing before the burial-places of these great heroes.
   From Nelson's tomb we went to Nelson's Monument, in Trafalgar Square.  It was fine fun riding on the top of a 'bus along Fleet Street, past the newspaper offices and the law courts.  Then we went along the Strand to Charing Cross and Trafalgar Square.  
   When James saw the tall column with the statue of Nelson on the top of it, he drew in his breath and said, "Oh, isn't it grand?  I never thought I should see this." 

LESSON 5. 
ON THE OMNIBUS. 
   Do you know most of the streets we are going through, Mary? 
   Yes, James, I think so.
   I know that this is -- Waterloo Bridge. 
   Yes, you are right. I have heard papa say that the view from here was the finest in any city in Europe. 
   What are those very big buildings there with the high tower?  
   Those are the Houses of Parliament, and those large new buildings are hotels and clubs, I think.
   And that big one with a dome? 
   That's the Dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. 
   I should like to go there some day.
   I've no doubt you will; I've been there several times. 
   What street is this?   
   This is the Strand. 
   What a lot of omnibuses and cabs there are here, and so many people walking too!
   Yes, the Strand is very crowded.  
   Is that a railway station? 
   Yes, Charing Cross station, and this is Trafalgar Square. 
   Look at the stone lions, Mary! Are the real lions in the "Zoo" as big as that? 
   Not quite, I think.
   That is Nelson's column, and that is Nelson's statue on the top of it. 
   Isn't it silly to put it up so high where no one can see it?  How do they know if it is like him?  
   It does seem an odd idea.  That's the National Gallery over there.
   What's that for, Mary? 
   Oh, that is full of pictures, some of them are very pretty.  
   I would rather look at lions, real lions I mean, than at pictures. 
   I dare say.  I wish this 'bus would move on. We've been stopping here a long while. 
   From Echo of Spoken English. 

LESSON 6. 
THE ENCHANTED SWORD. 
   It was Christmas time in England nearly fourteen hundred years ago.  England was not a happy place in those days. 
   There was no king, there was no law, there was only fighting among the rich and powerful lords and suffering among the poor and wretched people.
   The lords were strong and cruel.  Many of them were called kings, and they fought among themselves to see which of them was strong enough to rule them all and to be king of England. 
   Now, at this time, the head of the English church was a good and wise man.  He was called the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
   When he saw how unhappy the poor people were he longed to do something for them. So he asked Merlin, the enchanter, what could be done to keep the wicked lords from working so much harm. 
   "It is time," said Merlin," to find a king for England." 
   " How shall we find a king?"  asked the Archbishop.  
   "Send to all the lords of England and tell them to come to London at Christmas," said Merlin, "Tell them it shall be shown to them who shall be king.  
   So the lords met in the great church of London and heard mass, and still they did not know who was to be king.  But as they walked about, they saw a huge block of stone in the churchyard. 
   On the top of the stone there was an anvil, and in the anvil was a shining sword stuck straight through the anvil and the stone.  On the sword was written in letters of gold, "He who can draw this sword shall be king of all England." 
   Then many of the lords pulled at the sword with all their might, but none could, stir it.  
   The Archbishop was pleased, for he knew that none of them were fit to be the king of England. "The true king is not here," said the Archbishop, "but I know that he will come soon."
   So he set a tent over the stone and chose ten knights to watch it night and day. But though many persons came, both rich and poor, not one could move the sword a hair's breadth from its place. 
   Now it happened that there came riding into London old Sir Ector and his sons Kay and Arthur.  And, as they rode, Kay found that he had forgotten to bring his sword.
   "I beg of you, Arthur," said he, "that you will ride back to my father's house and get my sword."
   Arthur, being a kind-hearted younger brother, turned back willingly, but when he came to the house he found it locked.  Then he remembered that in St. Paul's churchyard he had seen a sword sticking in the stone. 
   "That will do as well as another," he said. 
   He rode to the churchyard and tied his horse while he went for the sword.  He did not stop to read the words written upon it.  He simply pulled it out of the stone and carried it to Kay. 
   The ten knights who were to watch the stone night and day were not there.  They had grown tired of watching an enchanted sword, which no one could move. 
   When Kay saw the writing on the sword he ran to his father. 
   "It is I," he cried, "who shall be king of England! "
   "Tell me, Kay," said Sir Ector, "how did you get this sword?"
   Kay, who was an honest lad, after all, answered, "Arthur brought it to me."
   " It is no such great matter," said Arthur.  "I will show you where I found it."
   Arthur led them back to the stone.  There was no hole in the iron, but as soon as Arthur touched the anvil with the point of the sword, it sank deep into its place. 
   Then Sir Ector pulled at it with all his might, and after him Sir Kay, but both of them pulled in vain. 
   Arthur, when they had tried again and again, laid his hand lightly on the jeweled hilt and drew it forth at once. 
   Then Sir Ector fell down upon his knees before young Arthur. 
   "My own dear father," cried Arthur, " why do you kneel to me?"  
   "I am not your father," said Sir Ector, "though I love you as much as I do my own son Kay.  Now that you are to be King of England, promise me that you will be kind to Kay." 
   "Father," said Arthur.  " if I am King, Kay shall have charge of all my lands and castles as long as we both live." 
   When it was found that no one else could move the sword, people cried out, "Long live King Arthur!  We will have no other king!" 
   Then the Archbishop set the crown upon Arthur's head, and he, kneeling down, promised to be a true king to his people and to do justly to his life's end, as indeed he did.
   From The Jones Readers. 

LESSON 7. 
IN THE PARKS. 
   Now we will get out of our cab and turn in here.  This then is Kensington Gardens? 
   Yes, I like this the best of all the parks, because the trees are finer.  
   They are really fine trees, and look very pretty now they are just coming into leaf. What a lot of nursemaids and children there are here! 
   Yes, this is a great place for them.  This is the Round Pond. 
   It is not very large. 
   No, and when it is frozen over in the winter, it is crowded with skaters.  That ugly red brick building is Kensington Palace, where Queen Victoria was born. 
   It must be very pleasant here a little later in the summer.
   It is indeed; you can sit out under these trees, and almost forget the great city.
   What is this you are bringing me to see?  
   The Albert Memorial.  It was erected in memory of Prince Albert who was, you know, the husband of the late Queen. 
   But what is that round building?  
   That is the Albert Hall. 
   What is it used for?  
   For concerts chiefly. I believe it can seat about 8000 persons.  It's a fine sight, when it is full.
   It must be; I should like to go there some time.  Is this still Kensington Gardens?
   No, we are now in Hyde Park.
   Then this water we see is the Serpentine? 
   Yes, it runs into Kensington Gardens too. 
   I see they let out boats on it. 
   Oh yes, in the summer evenings quite a large business is done, large, that is, for the size of the lake. 
   Bathing is not permitted? 
   Yes, but only late in the evening and early in the morning. 
   Is this Rotten Row? 
   Yes, this is a great place for riders.  You must come later in the afternoon, when it will be fuller.  It is very fine too to see the carriage-drive thronged with carriages.  I don't know if you care much about that sort of thing, but you ought to see it once; for you can't see such a scene as this anywhere else in the world.
   From Glimpses of London. 

LESSON 8 
ALFRED THE GREAT. 
   The foremost name in early English history is that of Alfred the Great, who reigned from 871 to 901 A.D.  He was undaunted in defeat and unspoiled by success; he was a man of perfect honesty, simple, high-minded, of a most lovable nature, and his whole heart and mind were filled with the desire to do his utmost for his people. 
   Alfred was born in 849 at Wantage, in Berkshire.  His father was Ethelwulf, King of Wessex.  England at that time    divided into several kingdoms, and Wessex was that part of the country lying south of the Thames.  As a boy Alfred went with his father Ethehwulf to Rome, and there received part of his education. 
   He grew up in a very troubled time, when England needed wise heads and strong hands, for the Danes, the Northmen, were making savage onslaughts on the country.  The Danes were a fierce race of people who came over from Denmark in long ships driven by oars, and packed close with warriors who handled the oar or the great battle-axe with equal skill. 
   They were of the same race and blood as the English themselves, but the English were more civilized than the savage Danes.  At first the latter thought only of plunder. They would pull their long ships up some broad-mouthed English river, such as the Humber or Thames, run them ashore, and then spread over the country in search of booty, burning the housesand killing the people.
   When the alarm was sounded and the English collected in force to attack the invaders, the latter slipped back to their ships, put their plunder aboard, and were gone.  They were too quick to be caught.  Sometimes they would seize a number of horses, gallop to a town, sack it, ride back at full speed with whatever they had seized, and be off to sea before the ruler of the district could gather his troops to prevent them.
   Soon the Danes began to seize upon the land itself.  Instead of gathering plunder and going back home with it, they began to drive the English away and settle upon the soil.  This happened first in the North of England, in Northumbria, but Alfred's father had his hands full in trying to keep the Danes out of Wessex also. 
   He fought several sharp battles before his death in 858, and then four of his sons came to the throne one after the other.  Alfred was the fourth, and he became King in 871, his brother Ethelred having fallen in battle against the Danes. 
   The men of Wessex, the West Saxons, had now to fight with all their might against the cruel Northmen, who came every year in greater and greater numbers to try and win Wessex for their own. Asser, a writer of the time and a friend of Alfred, says: "The Danes were fighting for victory, the English for life, their beloved ones, and their country."  Luckily for the West Saxons, they had now a great leader, a man whom no defeat could dishearten, whom no ill-fortune could crush.  
   Alfred was only twenty-two when he came to the throne, but he was already a famous warrior, and had won for himself agreat name as second in command under his brother. In the first year of his reign he fought a severe battle at Wilton, and then for a few years the Danes left Wessex alone, while they overran other parts of England.
   In 878 the Danish King, Guthrum, made a sudden attack upon Wessex.  So swift was the onset, and so strong the enemy, that Alfred was taken by surprise and had to fly for his life.  He took refuge in the island of Athelney, among the fens of Somerset.  It seemed as if the cause of Wessex was hopeless. 
   But the very ease of the victory made the Danes careless.  They soon learned that it was a dangerous thing to disregard Alfred.  He gathered the West Saxons together, fell suddenly upon the invaders, and overthrew them with terrible slaughter at Ethandun, in Wiltshire.  So complete with his victory that the Danes begged for peace.  Their King, Guthrum, submitted to Alfred, and was ever afterwards faithful to him. 
   Alfred made peace with the Northmen, and a treaty was arranged called the Treaty of Wedmore.  By this England was divide between Alfred and the Danes.  If you take a map of England and draw a line from Chester to London, you will get a good general idea of this division.  North of the line the land belonged to the Danes, and south of it to Alfred and the West Saxon.  The part of the land taken by the Danes under this treaty was afterwards known as the Danelagh (i.e. Dane-law), because the law of the Danes was observed in it.  
   After the victory of Ethandun Alfred had little trouble with his old enemies for many years.  Then, in 893, they broke into Wessex once more, and there was fighting till 897, when Alfred defeated their leader, a famous warrior named Hasting, in two pitched battles, and drove him from England.  The remaining four years of his reign were spent in quietness. 
   King Alfred died at the age of fifty-two.  He has been dead a thousand years, but he is not forgotten by his countrymen.  To this day the English people are fond and proud, of his name, for they never forget that he used his position as King, not for his ease and comfort, but for the welfare of his people, which he put before everything. 
   From Famous Englishmen 

LESSON 9. 
ONWARD! ONWARD! 
 All is action, all is motion 
 In this mighty world of ours!
 Like the current of the ocean, 
 Man is urged by unseen powers. 
 Duty points with outstretched fingers 
 Every soul to action high; 
 Woe betide the soul that lingers  --  
 Onward! onward! is the cry. 

 Onward, onward, onward, ever! 
 Human progress none may stay; 
 All who make the vain endeavor, 
 Shall like chaff be swept away. 
 Hagan.

LESSON 10. 
WALKS IN LONDON. -- 3.
   Next we walked down Whitehall, and saw the Horse Guards.  James was delighted with the soldiers sitting on horseback at the entrance; he said that he would like to be one of them just for a couple of hours.  They looked so stately and brave. 
   On the other side of the road we showed him Whitehall, the palace of the kings of England from Henry 8 to William 3. Then we walked on to Westminster Abbey. 
   How dim and quiet and solemn it looked!  The soft light shone through stained-glass windows, and threw patches of color on the old pavement, the marble columns, and the carved tombs, and gently touched the tattered banners hanging from the walls. We talked in whispers, and we seemed to be living in far-off days. 
   Westminster Abbey is a volume of English history bound in stone.  Ever since the time of King Harold it has been the crowning-place and the burial-place of the king's and queens of England.  Everywhere within its ancient walls are the graves of England's greatest men.  
   We spent a long time in the abbey, and even then we could scarcely drag James away from it.  At last we came out into the sun once more, and pointed out the great buildings by the side of the river.  We told him that they were the Houses of Parliament, and that perhaps father would take him some evening, to hear the members of Parliament busy making the laws of the land.  
   James was quite excited at being able to learn history from places and things instead of from books.  Though he had been brought up in Japan, we were surprised to find that he knew English history better than we did.
   Another day that we enjoyed very much was the day of our visit to the "Zoo."  We spent quite an hour in the, monkey-house, watching the ridiculous gestures of the funny little creatures, and laughing until our sides ached.  While we were watching the monkeys some one screamed "Look out!"  But the warning came too late. 
   A lady had been peeping between the bars, when one of the monkeys darted forward and snatched a large feather from her hat.  Then all the other monkeys tried to take the feather from him, and there was a great struggle, in which the feather was torn into shreds.  
   An old gentleman, who was enjoying the fun and laughing heartily, went very near the cage, to watch two of the monkeys who were fighting in a corner for a bit of the feather. 
   At once another monkey suddenly seized his gold spectacles, and fled to the perch at the top of the cage.  Then he put the spectacles on, and looked gravely at the old gentleman who laughed no more, though the other people did.  When last we saw the old gentleman he was looking for the keeper of the monkey-house, that he might get his spectacles back again.
   We spent a good deal of time, too, with the lions and tigers, and threw biscuits to an old bear which climbed up his pole and begged.  What astonished James most was to see the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros, and the crocodiles.  He was greatly interested in the beavers also.
 
LESSON 11. 
THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.  
   Edward the Confessor, the last of the Saxon kings, died childless.  A struggle immediately commenced for the crown.  Harold claimed it by right of marriage, by the favor of the late king, and as a bequest from that prince.  William, Duke of Normandy, claimed it also on similar grounds.  
   Harold took immediate measures for securing the throne, and was crowned on the day after the king's death.  Meanwhile William sent a formal embassy demanding the crown, reminding Harold of a solemn oath which he had once taken to uphold the claim of the duke to the English throne; but Harold boldly refused all terms, and William began his preparations for invasion. 
   While carpenters were busy in the dockyards on the Norman coast, while armorers labored hard at the steel harnesses of knights and men-at-arms, Harold heard bad news.  Tostig, a brother of Harold's, had been driven out of England a short time before, because he ill-treated the people in the earldom over which he ruled.  Now he had come back to win his earldom, and with him Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, at the head of a great army. 
   Away marched Harold of England at once for the north, as fast as his men could go.   He met the invaders at Stamford Bridge in Yorkshire, and there overthrew them in a fierce battle. Tostig and Hardrada were both killed in the fight.  
   In honor of this victory Harold held a great feast at York.  In the midst of the feast a messenger rushed in with the tiding that William the Norman had landed in Sussex.  
   Harold had now to march back with all speed.  As he went he sent messages calling fresh troops to his aid.  Nor did he stay his march till he reached the hill of Senlac, a few miles from Hastings.  Here he drew up his men along the ridge, and waited for William to attack him.  
   The English were mostly foot-soldiers, armed with great battle-axes.  Harold bad them stand shoulder to shoulder, and on no account to break their lines.  Great numbers of the Normans were knights, covered with armor and riding strong horses.  William had also many archers and spearmen.  
   The Norman archers began the battle.  But the English, safe behind a strong fence and covered by their large shields, cared nothing for the Norman arrows.  Next the Norman knights tried to break a way through the English line.  Again and again they were beaten back.  Nothing could stand before the terrible English battle-axes.  
   William himself was beaten from his horse, and a cry arose that he was killed.  He tore his helmet from his head, and shouted, "I live! I live! and by God's 
help I will yet win the day."   
   Finding that the English line could not be broken by force, he tried a trick. He ordered some of his troops to pretend to run away.  Seeing this, a number of the English forgot Harold's order to stand firm, and rushed after them in hot pursuit.  
   But the Normans faced about and met the scattered English in good order.  The English 
were killed to a man, and there was now a gap in the English line, through which the 
Normans could break in.  
   Harold and his war-band, however, fought on around the English banner, and the fight was not ended till an arrow pierced the eye of the English King, and he fell.  
   With the fall of Harold the English lost heart.  They were driven back and the standard was taken.  When night came they fled from Senlac, leaving the last 
English King dead upon the fields, and the Norman Duke victor of the head-fought.  
   The leaves were falling in October when Harold was slain, and on Christmas day William 
the Conqueror was crowned in Westminster Abbey.  Thus the old English king came to 
an end, and a Norman was the holder of the crown of England.  
   From The Story of the English People. 
 
LESSON 12. 
THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 
   Well then, where shall we begin?   
   I want to see a giraffe, mamma.  
   Look, there is the dear, old, big elephant.  
I do believe he knows me, he puts out his trunk to me at once.  I must go, and buy something to give him. -- Here, my dear elephant, is a big piece of bread.  
   You look, Mary, as if you would like a ride.  
   No, indeed, mamma; but there are boys and girls older than I am, riding.  
   Oh, what a lot of parrots!  
   If you come into this house, you will see a great many more.  
   Mercy, what a noise!  they seem to be all screaming at once.  Let us get away from them.  
   Let us see the rhinoceroses, Mary.  
   Oh dear, they are so sweetly ugly.  
   Well, here is the hippopotamus-house, but there doesn't seem to be any 
hippopotamus.  
   Why, Mary, there he is; don't you see him?  
   No, I don't.  
   You see him, James, don't you ?  
   Just a little piece of him.   
   Oh there!  He's in the water, and that is a bit of his back that is showing.  Goodness!  
   Now he is coming up.  
   Just to take breath, and then he goes under again.  
   Ah, now he's up altogether.  I think he is as ugly as the rhinoceros.  
   Here are your friends, the giraffes.  What long necks!  Suppose they had to wear collars!  
   They are very fond of your bread, Mary.  
   Do you see the notice, "Visitors are requested not to feed the giraffes?  
   I suppose bread isn't good for them.  Perhaps that is why they are so fond of it.  
   How pretty those antelopes are!  
   Their eyes are lovely.   
   And their legs!  Why they don't seem any bigger round than one of my fingers.  
   They will eat bread too, I am sure.  Oh Henry, let us have a look at the lions.  
   Very well, the Lion House stands there.  
   Isn't it nice to see them outside, basking in the sun?  I wonder if it reminds them of Africa.  
   The sun is hardly hot enough for that.  
   I wonder the tiger doesn't quarrel wit' the lions, as they are in the same cage.   What a fight they would have, if they did. Doesn't the lion look calm, and great as he is there, pretending to be asleep?  
   I like to see the tiger yawn; he does it so thoroughly, and what teeth he show too!  
   From Glimpses of London.  

LESSON 13. 
THE "WHITE SHIP."  
   King Henry 1. had one son, named William, whom he dearly loved.  The young prince was noble and brave, and every body hoped that he would some day be the King of England.  
   One summer the king went over to Normandy with his son and a great retinue.  The aim of the trip was to have Prince William acknowledged as his successor by the Norman nobles.  Besides, a promise of marriage was to be made between the prince and the daughter of the Count of Anjou.  Both these things had been done with great show and rejoicing, and the whole retinue prepared to embark for the voyage home.  When all was read, there came to the king, Fitz-Stephen, a sea-captain, and said: "My liege, my father served your father all, his life, upon the sea.  He steered the ship with the golden boy upon the prow, in which your father sailed to conquer England.  I beseech you to grant me the same office.  I have a fair vessel in the harbor here, called the White Ship, manned by fifty sailors of renown.  I pray you, sire, to let your servant have the honor of steering you in the White Ship to England."  
   "I am sorry friend," replied the king, "that my vessel is already chosen, and that I cannot therefore sail with the son of the man who served my father.  But the prince, with all his company, shall go along with you, in the fair White Ship, manned by the fifty sailors of renown."  
   An hour or two afterwards, the king set sail in the vessel he had chosen, accompanied by other vessels, and, sailing all night with a fair and gentle wind, arrived upon the coast of England in the morning.  While it was yet night, the people in some of the ships heard a faint wild cry come over the sea, and wondered what it was.  
   The prince went aboard the White Ship with one hundred and forty youthful nobles like himself, among whom were eighteen noble ladies of the highest rank.  All this gay company, with their servants and the fifty sailors, made three hundred souls aboard the fair White Ship.  
   "Give three casks of wine, Fitz-Stephen," said the prince, " to the fifty sailors of renown.  My father the king has sailed out of the harbor.  What time is there to make merry here, and yet reach England with the rest? "   
 "Prince," said Fitz-Stephen, " before morning my fifty and the White Ship shall overtake the swiftest vessel in attendance on your father the king, if we sail at midnight."  Then the prince commanded to make merry; and the sailors drank out the three casks of wine; and the prince and all the noble company danced in the moonlight on the deck of the White Ship.  
   When at last the vessel shot out of the harbor of Barfleur, there was not a sober seaman on board.  But the sails were all set, and the oars were all going merrily, Fitz-Stephen at the helm.  
 The gay young nobles, and the beautiful ladies wrapped up in mantles of various bright colors, to protect them from the cold, talked, laughed, and sang.  The prince encouraged the fifty sailors to row harder yet for the honor of the White Ship.  
   Crash! -- a terrific cry broke from the three hundred hearts.  It was the cry the people in the distant vessels of the king heard faintly on the water.  The White Ship had struck upon a rock, and was going down!  
   Fitz-Stephen hurried the prince into a boat with some few nobles.  "Push off", he whispered, "and row to the land.  It is not far, and the sea is smooth.  The rest of us must die."  
   But, as they rowed away fast from the sinking ship, the prince heard the voice of his sister Marie calling for help.  He never in his life had been so good as he was then.  He cried in an agony.  "Row back at any risk! I cannot bear to leave her!"  
   They rowed back.  As the prince held out his arms to catch his sister, such numbers leaped in that the boat was overturned.  And in the same instant the White Ship went down. 
   Only two men floated; a nobleman, Godfry by name; and a poor butcher of Rouen.  By-and-by another man came swimming toward them, whom they knew, when he had pushed 
aside his long wet hair, to be Fitz-Stephen. When he heard that the prince and all his retinue had gone down, Fitz-Stephen with a ghastly face, cried, "Woe, woe to me!" and sank to the bottom.  
   The other two clung to the yard for some hours.  At length the young noble said faintly, "I am exhausted, and benumbed with the cold, and can hold no longer.   Farewell, good friend.  God preserve you! "   
   So he dropped and sank, and of all the brilliant crowd, the poor butcher of Rouen alone was saved. In the morning, some fishermen saw him floating in his sheep-skin coat, and got him into their boat, -- the sole relater of the dismal tale.  
   For three days no one dared to carry the intelligence to the king; at length they sent into his presence a little boy who, weeping bitterly, and kneeling at his feet, told him that the White Ship was lost, with all on board.   
 The king fell to the ground like a dead man, and never afterwards was seen to smile.  
 From Child's History of England. 

LESSON 14. 
THE RHINOCEROS. 
   The name rhinoceros is derived from two Greek words, rhis, rhinos, the nose, and keras or ceras, a horn.  It therefore signifies the animal which "has a horn on its nose."  The nose-horn is in fact the chief mark of distinction between this and other kinds of animals.  
   Several different kinds of rhinoceros exist both in Asia and Africa.  But the animal is found only in the tropical parts of these two continents, and in those only where there is an abundance of marsh and swamp, in which it can wallow, and cover its rough hide with mud.  
   The horn of this animal is not connected with the skull bone, as is the horn of an ox or the antler of a stag.  It grows out of the nose or snout.  It is not really a horn, although it is convenient to call it so.  It is simply a growth from the skin, and made up of coarse hairs, which at the top have grown together so closely as to make a substance as hard as horn or bone.  The lower part of the so-called horn is not so close, and can be split up into shreds, which are found to be of the nature of hair.  
   The skin of the rhinoceros is of excessive thickness and strength.  A leaden bullet fired at it from a gun cannot penetrate it, but is flattened against it, as if it were a stone wall.  The skin under the stomach is not so hard, and can be pierced with a sharp-pointed spear.  
   The sight of the animal is not quick, and the small dull eyes are half concealed by the coarse hide which surrounds them.  But the scent and hearing are both very acute, and by them the rhinoceros is at once warned of the approach of enemies.  
   Its height, when fully grown, sometimes attains to five feet, but is not usually much above four.  Its lazy way of walking makes the height of the body look less than it is; for the animal never raises its head and neck.  While it is standing or strolling at the edge of a swamp, its carries its head so low that the nose almost touches the ground.  
   The color of the skin is a deep brown-black, tinged with a purple hue, which, however, can only be perceived when the animal comes fresh out of its bath.  The color of the young animal is much paler, but darkens with the advance of age.  
   A rhinoceros does not feed on flesh, but on the roots, leaves, and fruits of plants.  The horn on the snout is of great help to it in digging up roots.  
   A rhinoceros is not usually fierce, except when it is attacked.  Its great weapon is the horn, with one blow of which it can gore a tiger and fling it into the air.  The tiger then falls back on the ground and is trampled to death by the huge beast.  It was once said by a hunter that he would rather face three tigers than one angry rhinoceros.  
 From Anglo-Oriental Series of English Readers. 

LESSON 15. 
OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE BOAT RACE.  
   Just the man I wanted to see.  
   That's fortunate.  What do you want with our very humble servant?   
   I wanted to ask you if you would like to me with me and see the Boat-Race tomorrow.  
   Which boat-race do you mean?  
   Why, the Oxford and Cambridge University Boat-Race of course.  
   Many thanks for thinking of me.  I shall be very glad to join you.  
   Then I will call for you at ten o'clock and drive you down to my friends at Barnes.  They are very jolly people, and will be delighted to see any friend of mine.  
   At what o'clock will the race start?  
   About twelve, I think.  You see, the race must be rowed on the ebb-tide, so the hour is to some extent limited.  
   And what is the distance?  
   Four and a quarter English miles.  The course is from Putney to Mortlake.  
   I have just found it on my pocket-map of London.  Heavens!  What a race!  Tell me something about it please.  
   Well, perhaps it would be better for you to know something about it before seen the race.  Eight men are chosen by each university from the different colleges, and are specially trained for this race many months beforehand.  I ought not to have omitted the coxswains, for they are really very important factors in the race.  
   All this must take time?  
   Rather!  The business of selecting and training the university crews occupies almost the whole year from Boat-Race to Boat-Race.  
   I have heard that the river is a wonderful sight on the day of the race.  
   Wonderful is no word for it.  Hundreds of thousands of spectators crowd the banks and the sides of the river for miles.  All wear the colors of their favorite university.  The Oxford color is dark blue, and the Cambridge light blue.  
   Isn't the race generally over before reaching Barnes, where we are to see it?  
   Oh dear no!  It happens quite often that the race is contested up to the last hundred yards.  There have been one, if not more, case of "dead-heat."  
   The enthusiasm is conquering me.  I must see it, I shall count the minutes till you come for me!  
   You had better pray for fine weather, for if it rains we shall lose 90 percent.  of the enjoyment. 
   Which boat do you think will win this year?  
   Well, the odds are 3 to 2 on Cambridge.  I don't know why, I'm sure, except that Cambridge has got into a sort of habit of winning lately. -- But I must be off now.  Don't forget to put on a dark blue neck-tie.  My friends are staunch supporters of Oxford.  To-morrow at ten!  
   Good-bye!  
 From Jefferson and Boensel's English Dialogues.

LESSON 16. 
THE WINDMILL. 
Behold!  a giant am I!
 Aloft here in my tower, 
 With my granite jaws I devour 
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye,
 And grind them into flour;

I look down over the farms; 
 In the fields of grain I see 
 The harvest that is to be, 
And I fling to the air my arms, 
 For I know it is all for me. 

I hear the sound of flails 
 Far off, from the threshing-floors 
 In barns, with their open doors, 
And the wind, the wind in my sails, 
 Louder and louder roars. 

I stand here in my place, 
 With my foot on the rock below. 
 And whichever way it may blow 
I meet it face to face, 
 As a brave man meets his foe. 

And while we wrestle and strive, 
 My master, the miller, stands 
 And feeds me with his hands; 
For he knows who makes him thrive, 
 Who makes him lord of lands. 

On Sundays I take my rest; 
 Church - going bells begin 
 Their low, melodious din; 
I cross my arms on my breast, 
 And all is peace within. 
                         H. W. Longfellow.

LESSON 17.
A ROWING MATCH ON THE THAMES. 
   A well contested rowing-match on the Thames is a very lively and interesting scene.  The water is studded with boats of all sorts, kinds, and descriptions; places in the coal barges at the different wharfs are let to crowds of spectators; beer and tobacco flow freely about; men, women, and children wait for the start in breathless expectation, cutters of six and eight oars glide gently up and down, waiting to accompany their proteges during the race; bands of music add to the animation, if not to the harmony of the scene; groups of watermen are assembled at: the different stairs, discussing the merits of the presective candidates; and the prize wherry, which is rowed slowly about by a pair of sculls, as an object of general interest.
   Two o'clock strikes, and every body looks anxiously in the direction of the bridge through which the candidates for the prize will come half -- past two, and the general attention which has been preserved so long begins to flag, when suddenly a gun is heard, and the noise of distant hurrahing along each bank of the river -- every head is bent forward -- the noise draws nearer -- the boats which have been waiting at the bridge start briskly up the river, and a well-manned galley shoots through the arch, the sitters cheering on the boats behind them, which are not yet visible.   
   "Here they are!" is the general cry -- and through darts the first boat, the man in her, stripped to the skin, and exerting ever muscle to preserve the advantage they have gained -- four other boats follow close astern; there are not two boats' length between them -- the shouting is tremendous, and the interest intense.  "Go on. Pink!"  
"Give it, her, Red!" -- "Sullivan for ever! "Bravo.  George! "Now, Tom, now - now  -- now why don't your partner stretch out?" -- Two pots to pint on Yellow!"   &c.   &c.  Every little public-house fires its gun, and hoists its flag; and the men who win the heat, come in, amidst a splashing, and shouting, and banging, an confusions, which no one can imagine who has not witnessed it, and of which any description would convey a very faint idea. 
                         Charles Dickens. 

LESSON 18. 
A LETTER FROM LONDON.
15, Queen Street, London, July 10th, 1908. 
    Dear Alice, 
   I have now been here a fort-night and am getting quite accustomed to London ways. Our cousins have taken us to see many of the sights of London which we have so often read about in our books at home. 
   One of the places I have enjoyed very much was the Zoological Gardens.  The "Zoo," as everyone here calls it, is in Regent's Park, which is one of the chief parks of London. 
   We went to the "Zoo" yesterday afternoon and it was about three o'clock when we reached there.  First we went to that part where there was a band playing, and many people were listening to the music.  It made me think of the Hibiya Park in Tokyo!   The gardens are extremely large and full of beautiful flowers and tall trees, the different houses for all sorts of animals being scattered here and there. 
   Going down the wide walk, I was much surprised to see an elephant marching along, putting out his large trunk in different directions for something to eat. I afterwards saw many of the people feeding him with buns, biscuits, and bread. 
   Presently we had a ride on the back of one of the elephants, whose name was "General."   There were two seats on his back, each holding about three persons.  People get up by means of two ladders, the meek animal standing quietly between them.  
   We went to see the lions and tigers fed by the keepers.  Large pieces of raw meat and bone are given them, which they tear and gnaw at.  Next we went to the seal, but we saw very little of him as he kept swimming under water all the time, only occasionally coming to the surface to breathe. 
   I must not forget to tell you about the monkeys.  They are kept in big iron cages in which there are swings, and ropes, and trunks of trees for them to climb.  The are very mischievous, and if any one goes too near the cage, they were ready to stretch out their arms and snatch away whatever they can catch hold of.  
   We saw the beavers building with branches of trees; they were working busily. 
   A new Reptile House has lately been built where snakes are kept, and in a large tank in the middle we saw a great many crocodiles. 
   We saw, too, the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the camels, and the zebras. 
   We spent the whole afternoon and evening in the gardens, and we were very sorry when we were obliged to leave at eight o'clock, when the place is closed.
   I hope this letter may give you some idea of what the great "Zoo" is like, but it would have been a thousand times better if you could have seen it all with me. 
Your affectionate brother, 
        James. 

LESSON 19. 
ROBIN HOOD. 
   In the reigns of King Richard and King John there were many great woods in England.  
The most famous of these was Sherwood forest where the king often went to hunt deer.  
In this forest there lived a band of daring men called outlaws.  
   They had done something that was against the laws of the land, and had been forced to hide themselves in the woods to save their lives.  There they spent their time roaming about among the trees, hunting the king's deer, and robbing rich travelers.
   There were nearly a hundred of these outlaws, and their leader was a bold fellow called Robin Hood.  They were dressed in suits of green, and armed with bows and arrows; and sometimes they carried long wooden lances and broadswords, which they knew how to handle well.  Whenever they had taken anything, it was brought and laid at the feet of Robin Hood, whom they called their king He then divided it fairly among them, giving to each man his just share.  
   Robin never allowed his men to harm anybody but the rich man, who lived in great 
houses and did no work.  He was always kind to the poor, and he often sent help to them; and for that reason the common people looked upon him as their friend.  
   Long after he was dead, men liked to talk about his deeds.  Some praised him, and some blamed him.  He was, indeed, a rude, lawless fellow; but, at that time, people did not think of right and wrong as they do now. 
   A great many songs were made up about Robin Hood, and these songs were sung in the cottages and huts all over the land for hundreds of years afterward.  
   Here is a little story that is told in one of those songs: -- 
   Robin Hood was standing one day under a green tree by the roadside.  While he was listening to the birds among the leaves, he saw a young man pass by.  This younger man was dressed in a fine suit of bright red cloth; and, as he tripped gaily along the road, he seemed to be as happy as the day.  
   "I will not trouble him," said Robin Hood, for I think he is on his way to his wedding."  
   The next day Robin stood in the same place.  He had not been there long when he saw the same young man coming down the road.  But he did not seem to be so happy this time.  He had left his scarlet coat at home, and at every step he sighed and groaned.  
   "Ah the sad day! the sad day!" he kept saying to himself.  
   Then Robin Hood stepped out from under the tree, and said, -- 
   "I say, young man! Have you any money to spare for my merry man and me?"
   "I have nothing at all," said the young man, "but five shillings and a ring."
   "A gold ring? " asked Robin. 
   "Yes," said the young man, "it is a gold ring.  Here it is."
   "Ah, I see!" said Robin; "'it is a wedding ring." 
   "I have kept it these seven years," said the young man; "I have kept it to give to my bride on our wedding day.  We were going to be married yesterday.  But her father has promised her to a rich old man whom she never saw.  And now my heart is broken."                     
   "What is your name?" asked Robin.  
   "My name is Allen-a-Dale," said the young man.  
   "What will you give me, in gold or fee," said Robin, " if I will help you to win your bride again in spite of the rich man to whom she has been promised? " 
   "I have no money," said Allen "but I will promise to be your servant."
   "How many miles is it to the place where the maiden lives?" asked Robin.  
   "It is not far," said Allen, "but she is to be married this very day, and the church is five miles away." 
   Then Robin made haste to dress himself as a harper; and in the afternoon he stood at the door of the church.  
   "Who are you?" said the bishop, "and what are you doing here? 
   " I am a bold harper," said Robin, "the best in the north country." 
   "I am glad you have come," said the bishop kindly.  "There is no music that I like so well as that of the harp.  Come in, and play for us." 
   "I will go in," said Robin Hood; "but will not give you any music until I see the bride and bridegroom." 
   Just then an old man came in.  He was dressed in rich clothing, but was bent with age, and was feeble and gray.  By his side walked a fair young girl.  Her cheeks were very pale, and her eyes were full of tears.  
   "This is no match," said Robin.  " Let the bride choose for herself." 
   Then he put his horn on his lips, and blew three times.  The very next minute, four and twenty men, all dressed in green, and carrying long bows in their hands, came running across the fields.  And as they matched into the church, all in a row, the foremost among them was Allen-a-Dale.  
   "Now whom do you choose?" said Robin the maiden.  
   "I choose Allen-a-Dale," she said blushing.  
   "And Allen-a-Dale you shall have," said Robin; and he that takes you from Allen-a-Dale shall find that he has Robin Hood to deal with."  
   And so the fair maiden and Allen-a-Dale were married then and there, and the rich old man went home in a great rage. 
               From Baldwin's Famous Stories. 
LESSON 20. 
WALKS IN LONDON. -- 4.
   One day we took our cousin from Japan to the Crystal Palace, and climbed up the tower to look at the view.  We stayed late to see the fire works, and James was delighted with them.  He said that he should like to come and see them every night.  
   On another day we went into the west of London, and saw the South Kensington Museum, and the big wheel at Earl's Court.  On the way there we used the smoky underground railway, but we came back by the "Twopenny Tube." 
   This is a railway that runs deep down underground.  It is so called because it is really a tube, and the fare is two pence for any distance.  There is no smoke, for the engines are driven by electricity, and not by steam. 
   Passengers go down from the street to the stations in lifts; and when James stepped into the lift and we went down, down, down, he thought that we were on our journey.  
   When we stopped at the bottom of the shaft, and the people walked out of the lift, he cried, "How soon we are there!" Several people who heard this smiled.  
   The London museums are much too large to see properly in one visit.  That is especially the case with the British Museum.  Although we spent an afternoon there we could only see a small part of it.  We got permission to go into the library attached to it.  It is, by the way, the largest library in the world.  There are so many books in the circular building that if they were all placed in one shelf, the shelf would be forty miles long.  
   We went one day to the pretty town of Richmond, which stands on the Thames, above London.  There we took a boat and rowed up the river to Hampton Court.  This old palace stands amidst charming garden and meadows.  It was built by Cardinal Wolsey, who gave it to Henry the Eighth.  
   In the gardens there is a famous maze, which is a sort of puzzle garden, quite easy to enter, but very hard to leave.  We all lost ourselves and had to ask a man to show us the way out. 
   Then, of course, we took James to Greenwich, to see the observatory where the great 
telescopes are kept; thence we went to Greemwich Hospital, where we saw the coat 
worn by Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar.  I showed James the hole in it made by the bullet which robbed England of her hero.  He said he should never forget that all the days of his life.  
   It would be impossible to tell you all that we showed James in London.  One day we had a trip on a Thames steam-boat, and strolled along the Thames Embankment, which is one of the finest walks in all London.  
   There we stopped to look at Cleopatra's Needle, a very old granite column which was brought from Egypt.  The obelisk was set up in Egypt fifteen hundred years before the birth of Christ, at a time when London was nothing but a lonely swamp.  
   Uncle Charles wants father to take his whole family out to Japan to see all its natural and artistic beauties -- Mt. Fuji, the Nikko Shrines, &c., &c.  Father only smiles and says that he will see about it when we have finished our education. 
                                         From The Royal Prince Readers 

LESSON 21. 
THE LOCOMOTIVE'S STORY. 
   Puff, puff, -- pant -- puff, puff! I have been working all day and all night. I am glad to stand still.  I went through this town last night.  You were asleep.  I saw the lights in the houses go out one by one. Even the flowers were asleep. Only the river was awake. I heard her talking to herself in her low, sweet voice as I went by.  Don't be afraid of me.  I talk in this way because I am out of breath.  I have been running very fast.  
   We shall be off again in a minute.  My master is on his way home to see his baby.  I believe he thinks as much of that baby as he does of me.  I cannot understand why he should, for the baby could not move a single car.  
   How do I work?  I ought to tell you that we have a giant who does most of the work.   You cannot see him when he is at work.  We keep him locked in.  He is playing now.  Should you like to see him?  There he is, down between the wheels, whistling and singing.  Don't stand very near him.  His breath is as hot as fire.  He is a good old giant.  He is always ready to work if you give him enough to eat.  
   His work is to push, push, push with all his might.  That helps me to turn my wheel and pull my load.  We carry his food in the tender.  I call it his lunch basket.  
   I hear that we are growing old fashioned and that there is a new giant who can do our work.  I hear, too, that he does not need any tender, and that he lives in a wire over the cars or in a rail beneath them.  
   Some of the stories about this new giant seem very wonderful to me.  I am told that he can carry a message across the ocean faster than a bird can fly.  Perhaps this is all true.  Still it is not wise to believe everything that one hears.  
   I have been told that sometimes this giant will not work at all; but when we think of that he can do when he feels like it, we can scarcely call him lazy.  
   My name is Locomotive.  I am an engine, I know, but some engines cannot move a foot on the rails.  I am proud of my long name.  
   Here comes my master.  Now we are going.  The fireman has been working all the time I have been talking to you.  We keep him busy.  
   Hear me call to the flagman that we are ready to start: 
   Toot! toot! toot -- toot! 
                           From The Jones Readers. 

LESSON 22. 
ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SCOTCH WOMAN. 
   Many years ago, an old Scotch woman sat alone, spinning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage.  The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many implements of war and hunting.  There were spears, bows and arrows, swords, shields; and against the side of the room, hung a pair of huge antlers, once reared on the lordly brow of a "stag of ten ", on which were suspended skins, plaids, bonnets, and one or two ponderous battle-axes.  
   The table, in the middle of the floor, was spread for supper, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the fire.  But the dame was not thinking of any of these things, nor of her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining room, were busily preparing for the next day's sport.  
   She was thinking of the distracted state of her native land, and of the good king, Robert Bruce, a fugitive in his own kingdom, beset, on every hand, by open enemies and secret traitors.  "Alas!" thought she, "tonight I dwell here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out into the heath; and even now our king is a wanderer, with no shelter for his weary limbs." 
   A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings.  She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar the entrance, and beheld a man closely muffled in a cloak.  "My good woman," said he, "will you grant a poor traveler the shelter of your roof to-night? "  
   "Right willingly will I", said she, " for the love of one, for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." 
   "For whose sake is it that you make all wanderers welcome? " asked the stranger.  
   "For the sake of our good king, Robert Bruce, who, though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn and hound, I trust will yet be seen on the throne! " 
   "Nay, then, my good woman", replied the man, "since you love him so well, know that you see him now.  I am Robert Bruce." 
   "You! -- are you our king?" she inquired, sinking on her knees, and reverently kissing his hand, "where, then, are your followers, and why are you thus alone?" 
   "I have no followers now", replied Bruce, and am, therefore, compelled to travel 
alone. " 
   "Nay, my liege ", exclaimed the loyal dame, "that you shall do no longer; for here are my two sons, whom I give to you, and may they long live to serve and defend 
your majesty!" 
   The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the oath of fealty; and then, sitting beside the fire, the king entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their mother was busy preparing the evening meal. 
   Suddenly, they were startled by the tramp of horses' hoofs, and the voices of men. "'Tis the English!" shouted the matron "fight to the last, my sons, and defend your king!" But at this moment, the king recognized the voices of Lord James of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, and bade them have no fear.  
   Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother, and his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them it band of one hundred and fifty men.  He bade farewell to the brave and loyal woman, and, taking with him her two sons, left the place. 
   The two young Scots served Bruce well and faithfully, and were high officers in his service when, at the head of a conquering army, he drove the English invaders from the soil of Scotland, and rendered her again a free and independent kingdom.  
        From Union Fourth Reader. 

LESSON 23.
MY MOTHER. 
   Who fed me from her gentle breast, 
   And hushed me in her arms to rest, 
   And on my cheek sweet kisses press'd? 
                        -- My Mother. 
   Who sat and watched my infant head, 
   When sleeping in my cradle bed, 
   And tears of sweet affection shed ? 
                         -- My Mother.
  
   When pain and sickness made me cry, 
   Who gazed upon my heavy eye, 
   And wept for fear that I should die? 
                         -- My Mother. 
 
   Who ran to help me when I fell, 
   And would some pretty story tell, 
   Or kiss the part to make it well ? 
                      -- My Mother. 

   Who taught my infant lips to pray.  
   To love God's holy word and day, 
   And walk in wisdom's pleasant way? 
                      -- My Mother. 

   And can I ever cease to be 
   Affectionate and kind to thee, 
   Who wast so very kind to me? 
                -- My Mother. 

   Oh no! the thought I cannot bear:
   And if God please my life to spare, 
   I hope I shall reward thy care. 
                       -- My Mother 

   When thou art feeble, old and gray, 
   My healthy arm shall be thy stay, 
   And I will soothe thy pains away, 
                     -- My Mother. 

   And when I see thee hang thy head, 
   'Twill be my turn to watch thy bed, 
   And tears of sweet affection shed, 
                      -- My Mother.

LESSON 24. 
A CHAT WITH THE WEATHER-COCK. -- 1. 
   Dizzy! not I.  I am used to being up here, and I enjoy it.  I think that the top of this parish church spire is the best place in the world.  There is always something going on, either down below or up in the sky.  On windy days I am very busy.  I rush round and round all the time, but even that I do not mind.  Dizzy! not I.  
   I often pity you people who live down the streets and never get a real view of what is about you.  I can see the green border round the city; I can see the hills and moors even beyond that; and down below me is the High Street, where the people hurry to and fro all day long.  
   I have seen many changes in my time.  For instance, there has not always been such a wide High Street here as I see now.  When I was first placed here there was no city at all, but only a number of dirty huts on each side of the narrow lane that has since become the High Street.  
   In these huts lived the smiths, who made the armor for the people at the castle.   What changes have taken place since then! There is not a single stone of the castle left now, and many of the citizens to-day do not know that there ever was such a building in the place.  As for the houses in the High Street, they have been rebuilt dozens of times.  
   I have watched from day to day for many years, and have seen the making of the roads, and the canals, and it seems but yesterday since the coaches stopped running and the railways took their place.  
   As the city has grown, its green borderland has gone further and further away from me, and hearer and nearer to the hills and moors in the dim distance.  
   Every day for more than a hundred years I have been on the lookout at sunrise and sunset.  Not many people, I am sorry to say, see the dawn of day; and yet it is full of a kind of beauty that is never seen at any other hour.  At no other time is the city so calm and so beautiful as it is at sunrise.  
   There are not many people in this place who would leave their beds to see the first rays of sunlight as they shine on the hills and on the buildings of the city.  Such beauties are left for me, and for a few policemen who have been up all night, and are therefore too tired to care for anything but bed.  
   As the sun rises higher, people begin to wake.  Some look out of their bedroom windows to see what the weather is like.  Smoke rises from the chimneys; servant girls come out with mops and brushes; boys take down shop shutters, clean the windows, and polish the brass on the doors.  
   Milk-carts dash about the streets, making a great clatter; news-boys go about pushing papers under doors; and workmen, carrying their dinners in red or blue handkerchiefs, trudge off to their labor.  
   Rat-tat-tat! That is the postman with his hand on the knocker.  He leaves a letter at that house, and now that I see the blinds come down, I know that some relation or friend is dead. Rat-tat-tat! A letter is handed in at the next house to tell the people there that some one has been born. 
   Rat-tat-tat! There goes a letter with good news.  Rat-tat-tat! and there, a letter 
with bad news.  Rat-tat-tat! and some one had a fortune left to him.  Rat-tat-tat! and some one has lost all his savings.  Rat-tat-tat! and so on, until the postman passes out of hearing. 
                       
LESSON 25. 
PRINCE HENRY AND THE JUDGE. 
   Henry V.  was as brave a king as ever sat on the English throne, and gained the great 
victory of Agincourt in France in 1415. 
   But when he was Prince of Wales, he was a very wild and riotous youth.  He mixed with low companions, who led him to do many base and foolish acts, quite unworthy of a prince. 
   On one occasion, one of his friends was tried for some offence before the Lord Chief Justice.  He was found guilty, and was ordered to be sent to prison.
   When the prince, who was in the court, heard the sentence, he fell into a great rage. He spoke very rudely to the judge, and commanded him to let his friend off.
   "Prison," he said, "is no place for a prince's friend.  I am Prince of Wales, and I forbid you to send him to prison, like common thief." 
   "Prince or no prince," replied the judge, "you have no right to speak thus to the king's judge.  I have sworn to do justice; and justice I shall do." 
   The prince, getting more enlarged, then tried to set the prisoner free himself.  But the judge told him it was none of his business, and ordered him to cease from such riot in court.
   The calmness with which the judge spoke made the prince still more angry; and he rushed up to the bench, and struck the judge a sever blow on the face. 
   For this the judge ordered the officers of the court to seize the prince, and take him to prison with his friend.  "I do this," he said, "not because he has done me 
harm, but because he has insulted the honor of the law."
   Turning again to the prince, he added "Young man, you will one day be king.  How can you expect your subject to obey you then, if you yourself thus disobey the king's laws now?"
   On hearing this the prince was very much ashamed of himself.  He had not a word to say; but laying down his sword, he bowed to the judge, and walked quietly off to prison.
   When his father, King Henry 4., was told of what had happened, he said, " Happy is the king who possesses a judge so resolute in the discharge of his duty, and a son so willing to yield to the authority oft he law." 
               From Stories from English History. 

LESSON 26. 
A CHAT WITH THE WEATHER - COCK.-- 2. 
   Now the streets are becoming more and more busy.  Trains, trams, and omnibuses have 
brought many people from the pretty houses in the outskirts of the town.  Some hurry to the shops, some to the great iron works down in the valley, and others to the factories and offices over there.
   Then, all at once, the streets seem to be full of girls and boys, with books and satchels, running towards the school as the bell rings.  A few later and get into mischief, and then arrive late for their lessons. 
   "I am glad to see them come.  I watch for them every day.  You see that old gentleman with the long white beard.  He is the mayor if our city.  I remember when he was a mere school-boy in knickerbockers. 
   Hawkers appear in the streets and roar out their wares, and the omnibuses, trams, 
carts, drays, wagons, cabs, bicycles, and motor cars become so numerous that every 
minute it seems that they must run into one another.
   Yes, there is always something to see and to hear.  I remember seeing our volunteers marching away to the war.  How proud they were, and how the townfolks cheered them! Some have returned, and I have seen one or two limping about the streets.  One of them won the Victoria Cross.  I knew him, too, when he was a boy.  
   The trains and canal barges have brought coal, and iron, and stone, and other goods to the city; and now I see that the carters are fetching these goods from the station and from the wharf to the places in the city where they are being used. 
   Some of the stone is being taken to the new townhall that the masons are building and much of the coal, and most of the iron is carted to the great iron works. 
   Now the ladies begin to appear in the streets.  On fine days they come out like the butter-flies.  Some come in their carriages, and spend hours in shopping. Others, who have no carriages, and are not so well-dressed, hurry from shop to shop buying food for the mid-day meal.
   Look! a crowd has gathered in front of that large building over the way.  That is the police court, where the judges are now hearing charges brought against those who have broken the law.
   There such people are fined or sent to prison.  That building near the police court is the county court where men who have not paid their debts are ordered to do so by the judge. 
   Look at that crowd yonder! A little boy has been run over in the High Street.  See a policeman carries him into a shop, an now the ambulance van rattles down the street.  The boy is put into it, and away goes to the hospital, where the poor little fellow will be well cared for by the doctor and nurses. 
   The throng of the streets grows still greater.  I can see errand boys, bankers, beggars, idlers, busy people, clergymen, doctors, and even farmers, who have come from the country to the market to sell their crops, and buy seeds, tools, and other things hey need. 

LESSON 27. 
THE FIRST ENGLISH PRINTER. 
   It is only a little more than 400 years since a printed book has a great wonder in England.  If you had lived in the year 1470, you would have thought such a book as this you are now reading a very wonderful thing.  
   In the many hundreds of years before that time, all the books in England were written, not printed.  There were men who spent their whole time, in writing copies of books.  Of course such books were very dear.  Perhaps one of those books had taken a man six months to write.  So his wages for six months had to come out of the price of the book.  Only the rich could afford to buy hand-written books. 
   But at last a clever man hit upon the idea of cutting the letters separately upon the ends of wooden blocks, and setting together the blocks to made up words and lines, till a page was ready.  Next he rubbed ink on he faces of the blocks, and pressed a sheet of paper on them.  Now he had a printed page. 
   This was a great deal faster than anyone could write, because after the blocks were once set in order he had only to rub fresh ink on them to take off as many pages as e pleased.
   It was about the year 1430 that this was discovered, and the first printing was done in Holland.  It was in 1470 that the printing-press first made its appearance in England.  It was introduced by an English tradesman, named William Caxton, a Kentish man, born about 1420.
   As a young man, Caxton came to London and served in the shop of a mercer, a man who sold wooden goods.  After his master died, Caxton set up business for himself.  At that time there was a great trade in wool between England and the town of Bruges, in Belgium.  Caxton went over to Belgium and settled at Bruges, living there many years and thriving well.  
   The great lady of Bunges was the Duchess of Burgundy.  She had been an English Princess, Margaret, sister of Edward the Fourth.  She was very friendly with the English, her countrymen, living in Bruges, and knew Caxton well. 
   One day she heard that Caxton was translating into English a French poem called "The History of Troy."  She wished to hear it, and Caxton read the work to her as he went along.  When the poem was finished, she wished for some copies of it to send to her friends in England. 
   Caxton saw what a great task it would be to copy out a whole book by hand time after time, so he went to some Dutch printers who were living in Bruges.  From these people he learned to print, and before long he had printed copies of his poem, which thus became the first book over printed in English. 
   He was now a man fifty years old, a time of life when few people set up a new trade.  But Caxton turned printer, and soon crossed over to England with his press.  He began to work in Westminster, near the Abbey, and there many people flocked to see this wonderful new plan of producing books.  The King himself, Edward the Fourth, visited Caxton's workshop, and watched the printers at their task.  
   For twenty one years William Caxton continued to print books in English, his death taking place in 1491.  During this time he printed nearly 100 books.  Twenty-one of the books were from his own pen, translations made from the French and the Dutch languages.
   The discovery of printing is one of the great inventions of the world.  Think how different everything would be if we had no books and no newspaper. How empty our lives would be if the pleasure of reading were suddenly taken from us!  It is perfectly true that reading and pleasure could be got from books before the time of the printing-press, but not by all, as to-day.  Books were scarce and costly, and for that very reason the power of being able to read was not common.  
   The invention of printing, by making books cheap and plentiful, has given chances to many thousands to gain knowledge.  The poorest among us may buy books if the wish.  For a few pence they can obtain what would have cost many pounds 500 years ago.
                                                          From Famous Englishmen. 
LESSON 28. 
A CHAT WITH THE WEATHER-COCK. -- 3. 
   Perched up here I can look in at the factory windows and see men making all sorts of useful things.  
   The wood-turner over yonder always interests me.  He is a good work-man, and he seems to take a pride in his work.  He is never idle, and when his window is open I can hear him singing quite merrily.  
   I can also peep in at office windows and see men and youths writing figures in great books.  I think that must be a very dull life.  If I were a man, I would rather make something than add up figures and put stamps on envelopes all the days of my life.  
   I like also, sometimes, to look at the sky, and at the beautiful clouds; though I have noticed that scarcely any of the men or women in our city do so.  Never do they look at me to see which way the wind is blowing.  
   I can remember that when this city was a village, several old women, who lived near the church, often came to their doors to look at me, especially when it was washing-day, for they wished to know what the chances were that the day would be fine.  
   If I told them that the wind was in the south, they used to shake their heads and look displeased; for they knew that we should be likely to have rain, and that it would be best to wait until the wind was in another quarter.  
   Now the dinner hour has come, and people rush out of their offices and workshops for they mid-day meal.  After that they stroll along the streets, until the bells and steam-whistles call them back to their toil.  
   In the streets during the afternoon I see a number of visitors gazing at the shop windows, and enjoying the life and stir of the city.  They come from the country, and some of the younger ones are wishing that they lived in the town, where they would have to live in narrow streets and stuffy houses.  
   Now comes four o'clock.  The school children, and many men and women begin to leave the town to go home to the pleasant streets which straggle away into the country.   During the next few hours, more and more of the city workers go home.  
   Evening is now coming on: the shops are closed, work for most people is over, and the hours of amusement have begun.  In summer I can see young people playing cricket and tennis away there in the park.  In winter I see the people crowding to the theatre, or to concerts, or hurrying home to read, or to play indoor games.  
   The streets are very quiet now.  The sun as almost set, and the city does not look as it did in the mid-day light.  The common-place buildings lose their ugliness in the darkness; the tall chimneys look like noble columns.  The warehouses seem to be palaces in the night, and I sometimes fancy that the whole city is fairyland.  
   The night becomes darker the streets grow still quieter, and the great flames of the furnaces down the valley throw their light high into the sky.  But to-night there is a glare in a part of the city where there are no furnaces.  
   It is a warehouse on fire! See the fire-engines, drawn by swift horses, are now dashing down the street towards it.  Now you can see the streams of water shooting up to the flames from the hose pipes.  Morning comes before the weary firemen have put out the fire.  
   After eleven o'clock, when public-houses close, the streets become so quiet that I can hear the footfall of each person who passes along.  There is the watchful policeman, flashing his lantern into the doorways to see that all is safe.  There are the men hard at work cleaning the streets, and down yonder is a large 
building which seems to be awake only at night.  
   It is a newspaper office, and soon after mid-night, when I hear the great machines begin to rattle and turn, I know that the printing of the newspaper for the next day has begun.  Then I am alone for a few hours with the stars. 
   Soon, however, carts rattle up to the newspaper office, and are loaded 
with newspapers fresh from the press.  Away they go to the railway stations, and are carried by train to their parts of the country.  To-morrow morning, at breakfast-time, thousands of people will be reading the papers which were printed while they were snug in bed.  Now the dawn begins to redden the sky, and here I am at the beginning of another busy day. 
                    From The Royal Prince Readers. 

LESSON 29. 
THE CHOICE OF TRADES. 
First Boy. 
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a farmer, if I can.  
   I'll plough the ground, and seed I'll sow; 
   I'll reap the grain, and grass I'll mow ; 
   I'll bind the sheaves, and I'll rake the hay, 
   And pitch it up in the mow way, -- 
     When I'm a man.  

SECOND BOY.
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a carpenter, if I can.  
   I'll plane like this, and I'll hammer so; 
   And this is the way my saw shall go.  
   I'll make bird-houses and boxes, and boats, 
   And a ship that shall race every vessel  that floats, --  
     When I'm a man. 

THIRD BOY. 
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a blacksmith, if I can. 
   Clang, clang, clang! shall my anvil ring; 
   And this is the way the blows I'll swing.  
   I'll shoe your horse, sir, neat and tight, 
   And trot down the lane to see if it's right, -- 
     When I'm a man. 

FOURTH BOY. 
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a mason, if I can.  
   I'll lay a brick this way, and lay one that; 
   Then take my trowel and smooth them flat.  Great chimneys I'll make, -- I think I'll be able
   To build one as high as the tower of Babel, -- 
     When I'm a man.  

FIFTH BOY. 
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a shoemaker, if I can. 
   I'll sit on a bench with my last held so; 
   I'll sew so strong that my work shall wear 
   Till nothing is left but my stitches there, 
     When I'm a man.  

SIXTH BOY. 
     When I'm a man, 
     I'll be a printer, if I can.  
   I'll make pretty books with pictures all through 
   And papers I'll print, and send them to you; 
   I'll have the first reading,-- oh, won't it be fun 
   To read all the stories before they are done? - 
     When I'm a man. 

TOGETHER. 
     When we are men, 
   We hope to do great things; and then, 
   Whatever we do, this thing we'll say: 
   "We'll do our work in the very best way." 
   And you shall see, if you know us then, 
   We'll be good and honest and useful men, 
     When we are men. 

LESSON 30. 
THE BLOODY TOWER. 
   In a room in the Tower of London, two little princes, aged twelve and nine years, lay quietly sleeping.  In the gray morning, before they awoke, a hand might have been seen drawing aside the curtain of their bed.  It was the hand of a murderer; and the little princes were the sons of King Edward the Fourth.  
   Their cruel uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, had locked them up there, and had taken the crown for himself as Richard the Third.  He did not feel safe as long as they lived, so he sent a trusty servant to the governor of the Tower with a letter ordering him to put the princes to death.  
   As the governor refused to do this wicked deed, Richard sent another man to take his place.  This was Sir James Tyrrel, a man in whose daring and cruelty the king could trust.  
   Bad as he was, Tyrrel could not bring himself to do the wicked deed with his own hand.  So he hired two villains, and sent them at break of day to the room in which the princes lay asleep.  Vile as the men were, the sight of the gentle and innocent boys sleeping quietly on their pillow almost melted them; but when they thought of the money they had been promised, they became hardened again.  
   They piled the bed-clothes over the mouths of the boys, and smothered them with the pillows, pressing them down with all their might.  At first the cries of the boys could be heard; but they were soon stifled, and the little princes were dead.  
   The two murderers then dug a deep hole at the foot of the stone stair which led to their room, flung the dead bodies into it, and piled over them a great heap of stones and earth.  
   The room in which this dreadful crime was committed is a small one over a broad arched gateway, and is lighted by a little grated window.  In memory of the cruel deed, the building has ever since been known as the "Bloody Tower." 
                       From Stories from English History. 

LESSON 31. 
THE GREAT FIRE. -- 1 
   Early one Sunday morning, on September 2nd, 1666, when the Londoners were in bed, the church bells in the City began tolling, and soon feet were hurrying down every street, and everyone was inquiring of his neighbor what was the matter.  Against the dark sky was a lurid light that spoke of fire, and it was not long before every one was aware that a great fire was raging somewhere.  The fire began in a house in Pudding Lane, not far from Billingsgate, and as the houses were closely crowded together, and filled with merchandise and inflammable stuff, it spread with great rapidity.  
   There were not in those days the appliances for putting out fires that there are now; no dashing fire-engines, or long hose-pipes, through which the water is sent in streams high into the air.  The only contrivance was a small handsquirt or syringe, worked by a man, who, with great and continual exertion, might manage to keep a tiny stream of water running into the flames low down.  Such appliances were of no use at all.  
   A strong east wind was blowing, and the fire leapt on to the great warehouses in Thames Street, which were full of butter, cheese, brandy, wine, oil, sugar, flax, tar, wood, coal, and cordage -- all the things that best make a fire burn -- consequently it rose to greater heights, and roared in its fury.  
   In the noise and confusion that reigned in the narrow streets, people were running about aimlessly, knocking up against one another, and not helping at all.  Those whose houses were in peril were dragging out their goods as quickly as possible, and offering large sums to those who would carry them away to a place of safety.  Those whose houses were still safe, but lay in the line of the fire, watched its progress anxiously.   
   The water-machines which were on London Bridge were soon rendered useless by the flames, which had leapt upon the bridge itself, and threatened to destroy it wholesale.  The supply of water was altogether very poor, and had to be brought from some distance in leathern buckets, and meantime the fire grew worse and worse.  
   The shrieks of those in the streets were drowned in the crash of falling roofs, and the heat was so great that those who were pressed too near by the crowd behind were scorched and burned.  Some sought refuge in boats on the river, but the showers of sparks that fell all over the water, like a gigantic display of fireworks, rendered their position insecure.  
   Churches began to go soon, for the City was full of churches.  There are plenty still, but in the Fire eighty-seven were burnt down, and of these about thirty were not rebuilt.  The high spires quivered and toppled, and then went with a terrific crash, increasing the danger by their falling stones.  How many persons were killed in the streets we have no record, but there must have been many deaths from such accidents.  

LESSON 32 
THE GREAT FIRE. -- 2. 
   Until the morning light of Monday the flames roared on, and it began to seem impossible to stop the fire at all.  King Charles 2.  showed great good sense on this occasion.  He ordered that houses must be pulled down some why ahead of the fire.   So gunpowder was laid under these houses marked out for destruction, and they were blown up, leaving gaps.  
   The fire had at first begun in a poor quarter, but as the wind drove on westward and northward, strange sights were to be seen.  The houses of the rich people began to be threatened; and their owners, by offering enormous sums, were able to get carts to transport their goods.  So gold and silver, pictures and jewels, were piled up high on every conceivable kind of vehicle, and hurried through the streets.  
   The booksellers around St. Paul's thought that the great cathedral must be safe, and so they stowed their books in the vaults; but the turn of the cathedral was to come.  On Monday night no one thought of going to bed.  For who could sleep feeling that he might be awakened by the breath of the fire at his windows.  Thus the second awful night passed, and when the day dawned there was but little light, for the smoke of the burning city hung like a great black cloud over every-thing.  
   At last it was seen that the flames must reach St. Paul's Cathedral, which at that time was being repaired, and had high scaffolding poles around it.  These poles served as fuel for the flames, which leaped upon them, and got so great a hold that the very stones became red hot.  The roof was soon in a blaze, and the lead with which it was covered ran down in showers like golden rain into the streets below.  No one dared go near, for this boiling rain would have killed any one on whom it fell from that great height.  It set everything it, touched into a blaze, and at last, when the cathedral was thoroughly in the grasp of the fire, the roof fell in with a tremendous crash, and the sparks, shot up-wards to a great height.  
   For the whole of Tuesday the flames continued their courser and by evening had reached St. Dunstan's, in Fleet Street, and the Temple; but the Temple buildings were, fortunately, of brick, and did not catch so readily as wooden houses; also buildings had been pulled down beforehand to preserve them, so the beautiful ancient Temple Church escaped.  
   On Wednesday the wind abated, and the fire burned with less fury.  By this time also the gaps which had been made by the King's orders were reached at Bishopsgate, Cripplegate, and near Smithfield, and they proved very serviceable, for the fire could not get over them easily, so at last it died down, and grew dimmer and dimmer, until it began to go out and thus ended the most awful catastrophe that has ever befallen London.  
                         From The Glory of London. 

LESSON 33. 
THE WANDERING BOY. 
   When the winter wind whistles along the wild moor, 
   And the cottager shuts on the beggar his door; 
   When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye, 
   Oh, how hard is the lot of the wandering boy. 

   The winter is cold, and I have no vest, 
   And my heart it is cold as it beats in my breast; 
   No father, no mother, no kindred have I - 
   Oh, I am a parentless wandering boy. 

   Yet I once had a home, and I once had a sire; 
   A mother who granted each infant desire; 
   Our cottage it stood in a wood-embower'd vale, 
   Where the ring-dove would warble its sorrowful tale.  

   But my father and mother were summoned away, 
   And they left me to hard-hearted strangers n prey. 
   I fled from their rigor with many a sigh, 
   And now I'm a poor little wandering boy. 
   The wind it is keen, and the snow loads the gale, 
   And no one will list to my innocent tale; lie,
   I'll go to the grave where my parents both lie, 
   And death shall befriend the poor wandering boy, 
                                 Henry K. White 

LESSON 34. 
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 
1. HOLDING THE RIDGE. 
   The great war between England and France which lasted twenty-two years came to an end in 1815, at the mighty Battle of Waterloo.  The English general, the Duke of Wellington had been fighting against the French for many years, but he had never met Napoleon.  In June, 1815, these two great Captains met, and fought one of the most famous battles in the history of the world.  
   Very much depended on the fight. In 1814 Napoleon had lost his power; he had indeed, been taken prisoner by those who opposed him, and been shut up in the little island Elba.  But early in 1815 he broke loose, and escaped into France.  Here his old soldiers gathered about their beloved leader, and he was once more at the head of a powerful army, once more the terror of Europe.  
   Wellington marched against him, and the two armies met at Waterloo, twelve miles south of Brussels, on June 18th, 1815.  The two armies differed little in numbers, each being about 70,000 men; but they differed very much in quality.  Napoleon's troops were all trained and seasoned soldiers -- the flower of the French army -- while of Wellington's army about one-third were British, the remainder being Germans and Belgians, many of the latter quite useless, running away before they were attacked.   Numbers of the British, again, were raw militia, who had never seen a shot fired in anger before.  But this made no difference, for the British never fight better than in their first battle, and during that June day they showed themselves as cool and steady as veteran troops.  
   The morning broke quiet and cloudy.  It had been very wet and rainy in the night.  The British slept on the sodden earth; many of them had marched far and fought hard within the last two days, and were so stiff that they could scarcely stand upright.   But the sight of the French on the opposite hill straightened every back, and as the bells tinkled for church from the village steeples -- for it was Sunday -- the line of battle was formed.  
   The main plan of the battle is so simple that anyone can understand it.  Wellington placed his men along the crest of a line of low hills.  Below was a smooth green plain of corn-fields and clover-fields stretching up to another chain of hills upon which the French were posted.  Wellington expected an army of Prussians to come up to his help.  It was his fixed resolve to hold the ridge at all costs until the Prussians came up.  Napoleon knew all this, too, and it was his purpose to break the British line, and drive it from the ridge before the Prussians should arrive.  
   The battle began about mid-day with a furious charge of French infantry.  They were beaten back, and the cannon on each side began to roar.  Again the French infantry came forward, and again the British drove them back.  Then Napoleon flung his splendid cavalry against the British line.  Finer troops were never seen.  They were led by a famous French general Ney, called "the bravest of the brave."  They did their utmost, but once more the attack failed before the stubborn English squares.  
   Our infantry, who had met the.  French infantry in line, formed themselves in squares to meet the horsemen.  In forming the square, the front rank kneels, the second rank stoops, the third and fourth ranks stand.  Thus a hedge of bristling bayonet points is offered to the charging horsemen, while those behind fire swiftly upon the enemy.   
   Time and again the French horsemen charged at full gallop upon the squares, but time and again they were beaten back.  Some desperate riders made their steeds leap full upon the bayonets, but all fell, and not a square was pierced or broken.  The slaughter around these squares was dreadful.  The French rode round and round them, slashing at the British infantry with their long swords, and doing their utmost to find a weak spot.  But every face of the square was a wall of fire, and the swift bullets emptied the saddles until the survivors were glad to gallop away and seek safety.  
   Thirteen such attacks were delivered, and the British hailed them with joy, for they were an actual relief.   The fire of the French cannon was so deadly and accurate that huge gaps were torn through the ranks, and once a whole side of a square was completely blown to pieces, every man in it lying dead or wounded.  The French gunners were, of course, silent when their own men were mingled with the British, and the latter welcomed the cavalry charges on that account.  
   Nor were the British gunners idle.  The cannon were drawn up in front of the squares. When the French horsemen charged, the British guns poured shot and shell into them until the galloping horses were just upon the cannon's mouth.  Then the gunners raced at full speed for the square, ran under the shelter of their friends' bayonets, stayed there till the French were driven off, then darted back to their guns to pour a flesh hail of shot on the retreating enemy.  
   Great numbers of the French horsemen wore cuirasses and helmets of steel, and as they came on or rode back, the British bullets rattled on breast-plate and headpiece until the tinkling, clattering sound the air their sharp and shrill above the thunder of hoofs.  One who was present says "it sounded like a great hail-storm on glass," another that it was like "a thousand smiths beating with hammers on sheets of iron." 

LESSON 35. 
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
 2. THE OLD GUARD 
   So that long June Sunday wore away, the British holding on with a bull-dog grip to their ridge, the French hammering them with showers of cannon-balls, and every now and then delivering fierce attacks upon the thin line of British redcoats.  
   Wherever the combat was fiercest, there Wellington was seen; he was, indeed that day the "Iron Duke," as he was called.  Calm and cool, he galloped along the line, giving orders and encouraging his men.  He knew the endurance of his troops, and pinned his faith upon it.  Nor did he trust in vain.  Under the heaviest fire the British stood as steady as if on parade.  Wellington knew that this would wear the French out in time.  "Hard pounding this, gentlemen," he said to his officers. "Let us see who will pound longest."  
   But the British fell so fast that even Wellington became uneasy.  It seemed possible that the French might gain the ridge by actually destroying the thin red line which held it.  "Would that night or Blucher would come!"  exclaimed the Duke.  Blucher was the Prussian General whose aid he expected.  
   Yet there was no thought of flinching.  "If you should be hit," said one of his Generals to Wellington, "tell us what is your plan  of battle that we may follow it."   "My plan, " returned the Duke, " consists in dying here to the last man."  His men were of the same mind.  "Stand fast, 95th!" shouted Wellington to a regiment about to receive a fierce charge; "we must not be beaten.  What would they say of us in England?"  Never fear, sir," cried the men; " we know our duty."  
   They knew their duty, indeed, those noble fellows.  Here is a picture of the manner in which Waterloo was won, painted with one single, vivid stroke.  Late in the afternoon the British line was forced back a short distance under the weight of the French attack. The Duke sent a sharp message to one of his officers, demanding to know why le had left one of his squares out in front of the general line -- why it had not been withdrawn with the rest.  
   It was in very truth a British square out there on the field of battle; but it was a square of the dead.  Man by man, file by file, rank by rank, they had fallen, preserving in death the iron order in which discipline and their own stout hearts called upon them to die.  Seen through the battle smoke, the regular rows of the slain who had given up their lives rather than the ground upon which they stood looked like a living square.  That is how Waterloo was won.  
   Some of the most terrible fighting of the day took place about Hougomont, a large house standing amidst its gardens and orchard a little in front of the British line. Napoleon was very eager to seize it, because then it would be easy to break Wellington's line; the Duke gave orders that it should be held at all costs.  Held it was, but at a fearful price.  At nightfall a tiny band of Britons came out of Hougomont amid the cheers of their admiring friends.  Around them lay 3,000 dead and wounded men, British and French all heaped together, just as they had fallen in the desperate hand-to-hand struggle which went on all day.  
   The place was held by the Guards, who fired from the windows of the house, over the walls of the yard and gardens, or through loop-holes which they broke in the walls. They were attacked by 12,000 picked French soldiers, and for seven hours a most furious combat was fought, a combat without pause.  The French won the orchard, won the gardens by sheer force of numbers, but win the house they could not. 
   At last the French beat their way into the courtyard through the main gateway.   The fate of Waterloo hung in the balance.  If they seized Hougomont, the day was theirs.   Mad with rage at the idea of losing the post upon which they knew the issue of the battle must turn, the Guardsmen hurled themselves upon the French with the bayonet.  There was a fierce fight; the French were broken, but a fresh body of the enemy came up at a run.  Out sprang Macdonell, the officer in command, and a sergeant named John Graham.  Both were big, powerful men.  They put their shoulders to the heavy gates, 
swung them to, slammed them in the face of the on-rushing French, and made them fast Hougomont was saved.  
   Later the French set the place on fire, but the British stuck to their posts, and, with the roof flaming above their heads, fired coolly and steadily upon their foes. When night fell the blood-stained, blackened post of Hougomont was still 0theirs.
   As the evening drew on, Wellington, to his great joy, heard the sound of distant guns, and knew that the Prussians were coming up.  Napoleon also heard them, and knew that it was now or never for him.  He resolved to try his last stroke.  He had still in hand a body of troops which had not yet been in the battle.  They were his best and bravest soldiers, men who had seen battle after battle, who had won for him victory after victory -- the famous Old Guard.  They were formed into a great column, and marched across the valley against the English lines.  
   As these splendid troops-men who had never yet known defeat -- came on, Wellington ordered the weary and battleworn British to lie down behind the crest of the ridge.   Thus, as the French moved up the slope, they saw nothing but an empty sky-line, save for some cannon firing at them.  
   But at the instant they reached the summit, the British Foot Guards leapt to their feet and fired into the faces of the enemy.  This confused the Old Guard; they wavered and haltered.  Seizing the lucky moment, the Duke ordered the Guards to attack.  They dashed upon the French with leveled bayonets, and swept them down the slope.  
   And now Wellington gave the word for the whole army to advance.  The British received the order with a tempest of cheers.  Horse, foot, and artillery, they swept upon the foe, and drove the French in headlong rout.  "All is lost!" cried Napoleon, and fled from the field.  His star had set, and his power was broken for ever.  Shortly afterwards he surrendered, and was sent as a prisoner to the island of St. Helena, where he died in 1821.  

LESSON 36. 
DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 
   David Livingstone, one of the greatest explorers and noblest figures of modern times, was born at Blantyre, near Glastgow, in the year 1813.  His parents were poor people, and a ten years of age, he went to work in a cotton-mill.  He worked from six in the morning till eight at night.  Fourteen hours of hard work did no end the boy's day.  He had a passion for books and learning, and when he came home from the mill, he flung himself into his studies, as if no long day's toil lay behind him.  
   At nineteen he was promoted to a cotton-spinner, doing man's work and earning man's wages.  He took advantage of this better money to spend part of every year at Glasgow University, where, among other things, he studied medicine.  It was his great wish to become a medical missionary -- that is, a missionary who could not only teach and preach christianity to the non-christian people, but could also aid them by tending them in sickness.  
   At first he thought of going to China, but he happened to meet Dr. Moffat, the well-known African missionary, and this turned his thoughts toward Africa.  In December, 1840, he set sail for Africa, and landed in Cape Colony five months later. 
   Livingstone set to work at once to learn the language, and prepare himself to strike away to the north, as Dr. Moffat had advised him.  He soon found that his knowledge as a doctor was of wonderful help to him in dealing with the natives.  Everyone was willing to listen to the man who could cure them of a fever or heal a wound.  
   It was not long before Livingstone discovered that the great curse of Central Africa was the slave-trade.  He went to places where, upon sight of a strange face, all the people at once left their homes and fled to the forest, fearing that the slave-hunters were upon them.  
   In the year 1852 Livingstone made up his mind to strike into the interior.  But the journey would be long and hard, and he did not care to expose his wife and four children to its hardships.  So they were sent to England, and he set off on the famous journey, which was to make his name known as a great explorer.  
   And now for five years David Livingstone disappeared into the wilds of the Central African forests.  He traveled thousands of miles over path which no white man had trodden before him.  He marched north to the river Zambesi, went up its banks, crossed the mountains which lie between the Zambesi and the western coast, and came out on the coast at Loanda, a Portuguese settlement.  
   All the way he took careful notes of the position of places, the nature of the land, the character of the natives; in fact, gathering so much information, that travelers after him had only to follow his maps and instructions to find their way easily through that part of Africa.  
   In this great journey, which took him nearly two years, he was followed by a band of faithful natives, and he provided their food by shooting 'animals in the forest, or purchasing with beads from friendly villages.  Sometimes he had great trouble in passing through places where the people were savage and unfriendly. Yet he never made his way by force.  Patience and kindness were the weapons with which Livingstone always fought distrust and dislike, and he always won.  
   Livingstone arrived at Loanda in very bad health.  He was reduced to a skeleton, and was too weak to stand.  But after a stay of some months at Loanda, when he felt strong again, he turned his face towards the heart of Africa once more. It was his intention to cross the continent from west to east, and he did it.  This journey took him three years, and upon it he, discovered the place where the great river Zambesi leaps down 320 feet, and is then swallowed up in a huge crack where the rocks have opened; this he named the Victoria Falls.  
   In May 1857, he reached the east coast of Africa, having marched from sea to sea.  In December of the same year he arrived in England, to find himself the most famous man of the day.  England had been watching for news of him, and all were eager to hear of the new lands of which he brought word.  He was received everywhere with great honors during his stay of eighteen months, and then returned to Africa as a servant of the Government.  
                                        From "Famous Englishmen." 

LESSON 37. 
THE ENGLISH IN THE CRIMEA.
   After nearly fifty years of peace, the English people entered upon the Crimean War in 1854.  In this war England and France fought together against Russia.  The Emperor of Russia wished to take land belonging to Turkey, and the English and French were resolved to prevent him from doing so. 
   Large armies of English and France soldiers were sent to the Crimea, a peninsula in the south of Russia, lying in the Black Sea. 
   The first great battle was that of the Alma.  The Alma is a river, and the English and French found that they had to cross it, and attack a strong force of Russians on the other bank.  The river was crossed under a shower of bullets and shot, and then the enemy were put to flight.  
   Soon after this there was a fight at a place named Balaklava.  Upon this day was made the famous Charge of the Light Brigade.  Six hundred British horsemen, owing to a mistake, flung themselves upon the whole Russian army.  Only one hundred and ninety-eight came back alive.  
   The next battle was a furious one.  The English and French tried to take a town called Sebastopol.  They formed a camp about it, and the English troops were posted on some high land known as the Heights of Inkermann. 
   One dark winter morning, before the day broke, a great Russian army crept upon the English camp.  The soldiers sprang from sleep, and found their foes upon them.  Every man did his best to drive back the enemy, and though the Russians were five to one, they were beaten after a long, hard fight. 
   Soon the English soldiers had to fight worse enemies than the Russians.  They were attacked by cold and hunger and sickness.  Things were managed so badly that the camp was a swamp, the tents stood in pools of water, the beds were heaps of soaked straw. The men were short of food and short of clothes.  Many fell sick; there were no comforts and no medicines.  
   When this became known in England, the people at home were very angry.  They turned out the Ministers who had failed to do their duty, and put into power men who could be trusted to manage better. 
   A band of English ladies, led by Miss Florence Nightingale, went out to nurse the sick and wounded.  Under the care of these noble women the men were soon made comfortable, and thousands of lives were saved. 
   Sebastopol was taken in 1855, and this put an end to the war.  Russia grave way and peace was made in 1856. 

LESSON 38. 
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. 
   Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered,
    And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
   And thousands had sunk on the ground over-powered,--
    The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

   When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
    By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, 
   At the dead of night a sweet vision I saw, 
    And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

   Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array 
    Far, far I had roamed, on a desolate track:
   'T was autumn -- and sunshine arose on the way 
    To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

   I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
     In life's morning march, when my bosom as young; 
   I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,
     And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

   Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore 
    From my home and my weeping friends never to part;  
   My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,
    And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart; -- 

   "Stay, stay with us, -- rest, thou art weary and worn;" 
    And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; 
   But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, 
    And the voice in my dreaming ear melted way. 
                                              Thomas Campbell.