THE

HE fatal wars of York and Lancaster, which for nearly half a century deluged England with the blood of the noblest and the bravest in the realm, were occasioned by the conflicting claims of the descendants of Edward the Third to the crown. Henry the Sixth, during whose reign these contests commenced, was the great-grandson, by the father's side, of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the third son of that renowned King; while Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, was descended, by the mother's side, from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the second son of the same King Edward. Nothing, therefore, could be clearer than the superiority of the Duke of York's title over that of King Henry. Still, with the exceptions of some rebellions, hastily raised and speedily quelled, in the reign of Henry the Fourth, and of a plot detected almost as soon as it was engendered, and stifled in the blood of its projectors in that of Henry the Fifth, the crown had been enjoyed in peace and uninterrupted quiet by the grandfather and father of King Henry the Sixth. The prudent and politic administration of the first of those monarchs, and the brilliant military exploits of the second, during his expedition into France, blinded the eyes of the nation to the defects in their title, and it was no

until the sceptre was placed in the feeble grasp of an infant of nine months old, and that the realm was distracted by the factions of contending nobles, that the hopes of the House of York began to revive, and its surviving chief, a prince of great talent and valour, and of winning and popular manners, thought of putting forth his pretensions to the splendid inheritance of his ancestors. The general discontent in the nation at the loss of all the French provinces under the new King's reign, which had cost so prodigal an expenditure of blood and treasure during that of his predecessor, materially forwarded the designs of the Duke of York. The Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and other great nobles, espoused his cause; and at length, having got a numerous army, he took the field against the forces of the King, and openly laid claim to the crown of England. It is of course not our purpose to lead our readers into the details of the disastrous events which followed. Numerous battles were fought; unnumbered lives were sacrificed; the competitors for the royal dignity underwent unheard-of revolutions of fortune; and Henry and Richard were alternately monarchs and fugitives; at one time surrounded with all the pomp and circumstance of royalty, and at another desolate, unfriended, and even petitioners for a meal. The death of the Duke of York, who was slain at the battle of Wakefield, seemed to give a decidedly favourable turn to the affairs of King Henry; and the successes of that day being followed up by the unvaried efforts of his heroic Queen Margaret, he appeared likely to triumph definitively over his foes. The Earl of March, son to the deceased Duke of York, now, however, assumed the title of King Edward the Fourth; and being supported warmly by all his father's partisans, and especially by the renowned Earl of Warwick, surnamed the Kingmaker, he took the field, and at length succeeded in totally defeating the Lancastrians, and making himself master of the person of Henry, whom he committed as a prisoner to the Tower of London. His prosperous fortune was not of long duration; for having sent the Earl of Warwick as his ambassador to the Court of the King of France, to claim for him in marriage the hand of that monarch's sister-in-law, he nevertheless, while these negotiations were pend

ing, privately espoused the beautiful Lady Gray, the widow of Sir John Gray of Groby. The reader is already acquainted with the particulars of the Wooing at Grafton. This proceeding exasperated not only the Earl of Warwick, but the King of France, and both persons determined to resent the insult, by espousing the cause of Queen Margaret, the consort of the deposed King, who was then at the Court of France soliciting the aid of Louis on behalf of her captive husband. The Duke of Clarence, King Edward's brother, was also exasperated at what he considered his unworthy marriage, and also joined the Lancastrian faction; the result of all which events was, that in a very short time Henry found himself once more upon the throne of England.

Among the nobles who on this occasion hastened to London, to congratulate the restored monarch on his restoration to liberty and power, was Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke. This nobleman being the issue of the marriage of Queen Catherine, the widow of Henry the Fifth, with Owen Tudor, a gentleman of Wales, was consequently half brother to the King. He found the monarch keeping his court in the Tower of London, a place metamorphosed, by the events of the last few weeks, from his dungeon into his palace. The Earl of Pembroke was accompanied by his nephew, a stripling of about thirteen years of age, whom he was anxious to present to his royal master and kinsman. The youth was not tall, but was elegantly formed, of a slight and delicate construction of body, with large bright grey eyes, long flowing yellow locks, of a fair and almost pale complexion, and apparently grave and thoughtful beyond his years. The Earl and his nephew had no sooner entered the presence chamber than the eyes of the monarch were instantly riveted on the lad.

"And who, my Lord of Pembroke," he asked, "is this fair boy?"

"My Liege," said the Earl, kneeling, "tis your Highness's nephew, Henry of Richmond."

The King gazed more intently than ever on young Richmond, and the courtiers drew into a narrower circle round the throne, and looked anxiously towards the monarch; for they knew by his

flashing eye, his glowing features, and the solemn smile which moved his lip, that the spirit of prophecy was upon him.

"I can read the finger of destiny," he said, "on this fair child's brow; the volume of futurity is unclasped before me. Henry Tudor, listen to me. Dark and dubious is the vision that comes over me. Peril and strife are mingled with power and glory. I see bolts, and fetters, and a throne-I see swords, and banners, and a crown. I hear sighs, and wailings, and acclamations. Henry Tudor, thou shalt wear the crown of England if thou escapest three perils."

"And what, I pray thee, gracious uncle," said the boy, kneeling down, and kissing the monarch's hand, "are those three perils?"

The King gazed for a moment wildly and vacantly, then passed his hand across his brow and answered: "A fair wind, a false heart, and a boar's tusks."

"Yet tell me somewhat more; let me know more distinctly my destiny, good uncle," said Richmond.

""Tis gone, 'tis past," said the King, sinking back in his seat, and resuming his usual serene, and somewhat apathetic cast of countenance-"the vision has departed from me; yet be sure, young Henry, that what my lips have this day uttered are the oracles of fate, whose predictions must sooner or later be fulfilled." These words sank deep into the heart and memory of young Richmond; and when years had rolled over his head, they were not forgotten. Each succeeding year, however, seemed to render less and less the probability of the fulfilment of the prediction. Perils, it is true, sufficiently fearful and numerous, environed Henry Tudor; but they were not the perils which the King had foretold; and as to his wearing the crown of England, that for a long time seemed a dream too wild to enter into any sane imagination. While King Henry and his son, who had married the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, lived, there seemed every probability of a long line of successors of the House of Lancaster; and after the murder of the Prince at Tewkesbury, and of the King in the Tower of London, Richmond's chance of mounting the throne appeared to be more remote than ever; for the House of York seemed firmly