"Then," said Philip, "you shall have two hundred gentlemen who are knights of mine, and with them you shall go to win back the provinces belonging to you, of which your uncle, the usurping king of England, has taken possession. I myself, meanwhile, will head a force against him in Normandy." 5. Prince Arthur went to attack the town of Mirebeau,2 because his grandmother, Eleanor, was living there, and because his knights said, "Prince, if you can take her prisoner, you will be able to bring the king, your uncle, to terms!" But she was not to be easily taken. She was old enough by this timeeighty; but she was as full of stratagem as she was full of years and wickedness. 6. Receiving intelligence of young Arthur's approach, she shut herself up in a high tower, and encouraged her soldiers to defend it like men. Prince Arthur with his little army besieged the high tower. King John, hearing how matters stood, came up to the rescue with his army. So here was a strange family party! The boy-prince besieging his grandmother, and his uncle besieging him. 7. This position of affairs did not last long. One summer night, King John, by treachery, got his men into the town, surprised Prince Arthur's force, took two hundred of his knights, and seized the prince himself, in his bed. The knights were put in heavy irons, and driven away in open carts, drawn by bullocks, to various dungeons, where they were most inhumanly treated, and where some of them were starved to death. Prince Arthur was sent to the castle of Falaise.3 8. One day, while he was in prison at that castle, mournfully thinking it strange that one so young should be in so much trouble, and looking out of the small window in the deep, dark wall, at the summer sky and the birds, the door was softly opened, and he saw his uncle, the king, standing in the shadow of the archway, looking very grim. 1 Nor' man dy, an ancient province of France, bounded north and west by the English Channel.-- Mirebeau (Mè re bò'), a town of France, department of Vienne, 16 miles N. N. W. of Poitiers (pwå te à').—3 Falaise (få låz'), a town of France. The castle occupies a commanding position, and before the invention of gunpowder was a place of great strength. 9. "Arthur," said the king, with his wicked eyes more on the stone floor than on his nephew, "will you not trust to the gentleness, the friendship, and the truthfulness of your loving uncle?" "I will tell my loving uncle that," replied the boy "when he does me right. Let him restore to me my kingdom of England, and then come to me and ask the question.” 10. The king looked at him and went out. "Keep that boy close prisoner," said he to the warden' of the castle. Then the king took secret counsel with the worst of his nobles, how the prince was to be got rid of. Some said, "Put out his eyes and keep him in prison, as Robert of Normandy was kept." Others said, "Have him stabbed." Others, "Have him hanged." Others, "Have him poisoned." 11. King John, feeling that in any case, whatever was done afterward, it would be a satisfaction to his mind to have those handsome eyes burnt out, that had looked at him so proudly, while his own royal eyes were blinking at the stone floor, sent certain ruffians to Falaise to blind the boy with red-hot irons. But Arthur so pathetically entreated them, and shed such piteous tears, and so appealed to Hubert de Bourg, the warden of the castle, who had a love for him, and was a merciful, tender man, that Hubert could not bear it. To his eternal honor, he prevented the torture from being performed; and, at his own risk, sent the savages away. 12. The chafed and disappointed king bethought himself of the stabbing suggestion next; and, with his shuffling manner and his cruel face, proposed it to one William de Bray. “I am a gentleman and not an executioner," said William de Bray, and left the presence with disdain. But it was not difficult for a king to hire a murderer in those days. King John found one for his money, and sent him down to the castle of Falaise. "On what errand dost thou come?" said Hubert to this fellow. "To dispatch young Arthur," he returned. "Go back to him who sent thee," answered Hubert, "and say that I will do it!" 13. King John, věry well knowing that Hubert would never do it, but that he evasively sent this reply to save the prince or gain time, dispatched messengers to convey the young prisoner to the castle of Rouen.' Arthur was soon forced from the kind Hubert,—of whom he had never stood in greater need than then, carried away by night, and lodged in his new prison: where, through his grated window, he could hear the deep waters of the river Seine rippling against the stone wall below. 14. One dark night, as he lay sleeping, dreaming, perhaps, of rescue by those unfortunate gentlemen who were obscurely suf fering and dying in his cause, he was roused, and bidden by his jailer to come down the staircase to the foot of the tower. He hurriedly dressed himself, and obeyed. When they came to the bottom of the winding stairs, and the night air from the river blew upon their faces, the jailer trod upon his torch, and put it out. Then Arthur, in the darkness, was hurriedly drawn into a solitary bōat; and in that boat he found his uncle and one other man. 15. He knelt to them, and prayed them not to murder him. Deaf to his entreaties, they stabbed him, and sunk his body in the river with heavy stones. When the spring morning broke, the tower-door was closed, the boat was gone, the river sparkled on its way, and never more was any trace of the poor boy beheld by mortal eyes. 1. I 152. THE DREAM. CHARLES DICKENS. HAD a dream—a stränge, wild dream— And even yet its shadows seem To linger in my waking sight. 2. Earth green with spring, and fresh with dew, On the young blossoms of the wood. 3. Birds sang within the sprouting shade, 1 Rou' en, a city of France, 68 miles N. W. of Paris. 4. Fast climb'd the sun! the flowers were flown, For some were gone, and some were grown 5. 'Twas noon, 'twas summer; I beheld Woods darkening in the flush of day, 7. Now stooped the sun-the shades grew thin; 8. The river heaved with sullen sounds; The chilly wind was sad with moans; 9. Still waned the day; the wind that chased 10. And of the young, and strong, and fair, Linger'd and shiver'd to the air Of that bleak shore and water bleak. 11. Ah! age is drear, and death is cold! 'Mon u ment' al, pertaining to a monument or tomb; preserving memory.- Wåned, decreased; wasted. 12. 'Twas thus I heard the dreamer say, And både her clear her clouded brow; 13. "Watch we in calmness, as they rise, Shall open in the morning beam." W. C. BRYANT. THERE 153. THE WHITE STONE CANOE. HERE was once a very beautiful young girl, who died sud denly on the day she was to have been married to a handsome young man. He was also brave, but his heart was not proof against this loss. From the hour she was buried, there was no more joy or peace for him. He went often to visit the spot where the women had buried her, and sat musing there, when, it was thought, by some of his friends, he would have done better to try to amuse himself in the chase, or by diverting his thoughts in the war-path. But war and hunting had bōth lost their charms for him. His heart was already dead within him. He pushed aside both his war-club and his bow and ǎrrows. 2. He had heard the old people say, that there was a path that led to the land of souls, and he determined to follow it. He accordingly set out, one morning, after having completed his preparations for the journey. At first he hardly knew which way to go. He was only guided by the tradition that he must go south. For a while he could see no change in the face of the country. Forests, and hills, and valleys, and streams had the same looks which they wore in his native place. There was snow on the ground when he set out, and it was sometimes seen to be piled and matted on the thick trees and bushes. At length it began to diminish, and finally disappeared. The forest assumed a more cheerful appearance, the leaves put fōrth their buds, and before he was aware of the completeness of the change, he found himself surrounded by spring. |