Chapter 2

And then only, when the strange order had been obeyed, when their duty had been nobly done in the face of death, did the Light Brigade--all that was left of it--turn to ride back. Alas! there were not then six hundred. Barely two hundred brave men, wounded, and blackened by smoke and powder, reached the British camp. The rest of the noble band lay dead or dying in the valley of Death.

"When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder'd. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!"

=The Coronation of King Edward VII=

Never had a country a more popular king than King Edward VII, nor a more gracious queen than Queen Alexandra, and never was a happier day for the English people than that on which King Edward was crowned. A few days before the date fixed for the Coronation the king suddenly became ill, and a great gloom fell over the country, for it was feared that he might never be crowned. But though his illness was severe he soon began to get better, and when he was out of danger the hearts of his subjects were filled with joy and thankfulness. Guns were fired, church-bells pealed, and glad shouts and cheers rang out from the happy crowds which lined the streets of London, through which the king and queen, in the midst of their gay procession, drove to Westminster Abbey.

Inside the gray old Abbey was one of the most brilliant gatherings the world has ever seen. Princes and princesses from other lands were there, in their robes of state; peers and peeresses, in velvet, and ermine, and glittering diamonds; grave statesmen; and soldiers in their gay uniforms.

It was a grand and solemn scene when, before them all, the aged Archbishop of Canterbury drew near to the King, and with trembling hands placed the crown upon his head.

"The Lord give you a fruitful country, and healthful seasons, victorious fleets and armies, and a quiet Empire." These are the words that the old man said when he had crowned the king, and each one of us will pray that all these blessings may indeed rest upon King Edward VII, and the great Empire over which he rules.

=WAR.=

Over the broad, fair valley, Filling the heart with fear, Comes the sound of tramping horses, And the news of danger near.

'Tis the enemy approaching, One can hear the muffled drum, And the marching of the soldiers, As on and on they come.

Soon the air is rent in sunder, Bullets flying sharp and fast, Many stout hearts fail and tremble, Every moment seems their last.

On the ground lie dead and dying, Young and old alike must fall; None to come and aid the sufferer, Fight they must for freedom's call.

Many are the anxious loved ones Praying for the war to cease, Waiting for the right to conquer, Bringing freedom, rest, and peace.

E.S.

A BOY'S HEROIC DEEDS.

May 31st, 1889, is a day that will long be remembered with horror by the people in the beautiful valley of the Conemaugh, in Pennsylvania. On that date occurred the terrible disaster which is known to the world and will be named in history as the "Johnstown Flood."

For many days previous to that date it had been raining hard, and great floods extended over a vast region of country in Pennsylvania, New York and the District of Columbia. Never before had there been such a fall of rain in that region within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The waters in the river and creeks of that beautiful valley rose rapidly and overflowed their banks, while the people looked on in wonder, but seemingly not in fear. Suddenly there appeared to their wondering gaze a great bay horse galloping at break-neck speed and bearing a rider who waved his hands to them and cried: "South Fork dam will burst. To the hills for your lives." Only a few heeded his words of warning, while many mocked and jeered. On dashed the rider to warn still others of the impending danger, and, alas, to be himself and horse dashed to death by the massive timbers of a falling bridge. South Fork dam did break, and the mighty waters of Conemaugh Lake were hurled with resistless force upon the doomed people of that beautiful valley. The terrible details of the appalling disaster would fill several volumes larger than this. On rushed the mighty waters, sweeping onward in their flood dwellings, churches and buildings of every description, whether of wood, brick or stone, until Johnstown was reached and destroyed. The town was literally lifted from its foundations. Thousands of men, women and children were caught up and swirled away in the pitiless flood, and their agonizing but vain appeals for help could be heard amidst the mighty roar of the waters. Many acts of heroism were performed by brave men and women--yes, and boys--in rescuing victims of the flood. Only one of them concerns us here. Charles Hepenthal, a schoolboy, seventeen years of age, who was on his way to Bellefonte from his home at East Liberty, Pa., on the evening of the flood, stood quietly among the passengers on the express train, as they crowded to view the terrible havoc done by the flood. As the flood reached the train, at Sang Hollow, a small frame house came pitching down the mad tide, an eddy floated it in, near to the train, so close that the wailing cries of an infant were heard, piercing their way through the roar. Charles Hepenthal's heart was touched and his courage was equal to the emergency. He determined to rescue that little wailing waif from a watery grave. Strong men urged him to desist, insisting that he would only sacrifice his own life for nothing--that it was impossible for any one to survive in the surging waters. But the boy was resolved. He cut the bell cord from the cars, tied it fast to his body, and out into the whirling gulf he went; he gained the house, secured the infant and returned through the maddened waters with the rescued babe in his arms. A shout went up from the passengers on the train. "Wait!" he cried; "there is still another in the house, I must save her!" and, seizing a plank to use as a support, he plunged again into the surging waters. Ah! his struggle this time was harder, for his precious load was heavy. In the floating house on his first visit he found a little girl, apparently ten years old, disrobed and kneeling beside her bed, on which lay the screaming infant, praying to her Father in heaven to save her and her baby brother from the fury of the flood. "God has heard my prayer," she cried, as Charles entered the door. "Oh, save the baby, quick," and then fainted away on the floor. When Charles had landed the babe in safety and returned again for the girl, he found her still unconscious on the floor, and the water was fast flowing in at the door. In another minute she would have been drowned. But the brave boy's manly arms were soon around her, and with his precious load the young hero fought his way back to land and was given three times three cheers and a "tiger" by the passengers of the day express.

A CAT'S EXTRAORDINARY LEAP.

In the latter part of 1880, at a time when the Washington monument had reached a height of 160 feet, an adventurous and patriotic cat ascended the interior of the shaft by means of the ropes and tubing. When the workmen arrived at the upper landing the next morning, and began to prepare for the day's work, pussy took fright and, springing to the outer edge, took a "header" of 160 feet to the hard earth below. In the descent which was watched closely by two score of men, the cat spread herself out like a flying squirrel and alighted on all fours. After turning over on the ground a few times in a dazed manner, she prepared to leave the grounds and had gotten almost beyond the shadow of the monument, when a dog belonging to one of the workmen pounced upon her and killed her, she, of course, not being in her best running trim, after performing such an extraordinary feat. One of the men procured the body of the dead feline, smoothed out her silky coat, and turned the remains over to a representative of the Smithsonian Institution, who mounted the skin and placed it under a glass case. The label on the case tells this wonderful story in a few words: "This cat on September 23, 1880, jumped from the top of Washington's monument and lived."

=A Brave Queen=

Long ago, when this country was a wild land, there lived a beautiful and brave queen named Boadicea.

Her husband, the king, was dead, but she had two daughters whom she loved very much.

Boadicea was queen of a part of Britain. There were no large towns in her land, but there were forests of fine trees, and fields of corn, and wide stretches of grass-land where many cattle and sheep roamed and fed.

Her people were called Iceni. They were tall and strong, with blue eyes and yellow hair. The men were brave fighters and good hunters. They hunted the bears and wolves which lived in the forests, and they fought the foes of their beautiful queen.

They made spears to fight with, and strange carts called war-chariots to fight in. These chariots were drawn by swift horses, and, upon the wheels, long sharp knives were fixed. The Iceni drove the chariots very fast among their foes, and the knives cut down and killed many of them.

The Romans from over the sea were the most dangerous enemies of Boadicea and her people.

In those days the Romans were the best fighters, and the strongest and wisest people in the world. They came in ships to Britain. They had been told that it was a good country, and they hoped to take it for themselves. Some of them came to Boadicea's land, and took a part of it and of her riches. And when she tried to stop them from doing this, they seized her and the two princesses and beat them cruelly.

This wicked act made the Iceni very angry. From all parts of the land, fierce fighting-men came marching in haste to avenge themselves on their enemies, bringing with them their spears and their war-chariots. When all were gathered together, they fell upon the Romans.

There were so many of them, and they were so fierce, that the Romans could not stand against them. Thousands were killed, and the rest ran away to their ships.

But there were many more Romans in other parts of Britain, and when these heard how their friends had been beaten, they came marching in haste to punish the Iceni.

The Iceni did their best to get ready to defend themselves, but many of their brave men had been slain and others were wounded and weary, so they could not hope again to win a victory over their strong foes. Before the battle, Queen Boadicea, with her fair hair waving in the wind, stood before her soldiers and spoke to them. She told them of the wrong which the Romans had done, and begged them to fight bravely for their country. Then she got into her chariot, and with her daughters lying at her feet, drove to and fro, so that all might see them.

And the soldiers shouted, and promised to fight to the end for their brave queen.

They did fight long and bravely, until most of them were killed, but their foes were too strong for them. When Queen Boadicea saw that her brave soldiers were beaten, she drank some poison which killed her. She thought it better to die than to be again taken prisoner by the cruel Romans.

=King Alfred and the Cakes=

Once, when good King Alfred of England was forced to flee from his strong foes the Danes, he hid himself in a wood. In this wood, there was a small cottage, and Alfred asked the woman who lived there if he might go in and rest.

Now the woman did not know the king, but she saw that he was an English soldier, and that he was very tired, so she let him come in and sit in her kitchen.

Upon the hearth before the fire, some cakes were baking, and the woman told the stranger that if he watched them, and took care that they did not burn, she would give him some supper. Then she went away to do her work.

At first, King Alfred watched the cakes carefully; when they were well cooked on one side he turned the other to the fire. But, after a time, he began to think of his country, and of his poor people, and then he forgot his task.

When the woman came back, the cakes were black and burnt. "You are an idle fellow," cried she angrily. "You would be quite ready to eat the cakes, but you will not take the trouble to watch them."

While she was loudly scolding, her husband came home. He knew King Alfred. "Hush, wife!" cried he. "It is our noble lord the king!"

When the woman heard this, she was much afraid, and she begged Alfred to forgive her.

The king smiled, and said: "I will gladly forgive you for your scolding, good wife, if you will forgive me for spoiling your supper."

=Not Angles, but Angels=

In old days the people of England were not all free, as they are now. Sometimes young men, and women, and little children were sold as slaves, and had to work hard for their masters.

Many of these slaves were sent to Rome, for the Romans thought the tall, fair Angles very beautiful, and liked to have them as their servants.

Once, a wise and good preacher, named Gregory, was walking through the market-place in Rome, when he saw a group of slaves standing there, waiting to be bought. Among these slaves were some pretty boys with long yellow hair, and blue eyes, and white skin. This was a strange sight to Gregory, for most of the people in his land had dark hair, and brown skin.

"Who are these boys?" asked he of a man who was standing by.

"They are Angles from over the sea," replied the man.

"Surely not Angles, but Angels," said the preacher, looking kindly into the boys' faces. "Do they come from England?"

"From heathen England, where men do not know the true God," said the man.

"Some day they shall be taught to know God, and then indeed they shall be angels," said Gregory.

Now Gregory did not go away and forget this. When he became a great man and Bishop of Rome, he sent a good preacher, named Augustine, to England, to preach to the people there, and to teach them to be Christians.

=Hereward the Wake=

When William of Normandy came over the sea, and took the crown of England, many English people would not call him king. The young lord Hereward was one of these. He and his men made for themselves a "Camp of Refuge" among the reeds and rushes on the marshes. All day they lay there, hidden from view by the mists which rose from the watery ground, and at night they came out, and attacked the Normans in their tents, and burned their towns.

Hereward was called "the Wake" because he was so watchful and wide-awake that the Normans could not catch him. They were always trying to find him, but they did not know the safe paths over the marshes which he and his men used, and when they tried to cross, they sank with their horses in the soft muddy ground, and had to turn back.

But at last a false friend of the English showed them the way to the "Camp of Refuge", and then Hereward had to flee to save his life. He went with a few friends to the sea-shore, and there he found some fishermen who were going to sell fish to the Norman guards in an English town.

The fishermen took Hereward and his men into their boats, and covered them with straw; then they set sail. The Norman guards bought the fish as usual, and had it served for dinner. While they were eating it, the English soldiers came quietly from the boats, and killed most of them before they could get their swords to defend themselves. When the English people in the place saw this, they gladly joined Hereward and made him master of their town.

=Canute=

There was once a king of England, named Canute, who was a brave and clever man. But he had many lords in his court who were very foolish. They feared their master, and wished to please him, and because they knew that he was somewhat vain of his strength and cleverness, they thought he would like to be told that he was great, and wise, and powerful.

So they praised him every day, and told him that all he did and all he said was good. They said he was the greatest king on earth, and there was nothing in the world too hard for him to do if he chose. At last King Canute tired of their vain words.

One day, as he walked with his lords on the sea-shore, one of them told him that even the waves would obey him.

"Bring a chair," said Canute, "and place it close to the water."

The chair was brought, and set upon the sand, and the king sat down and spoke to the waves.

"I command you to come no farther," cried he.

But the waves came on and on, until they wetted Canute's feet, and splashed his chair.

Then the king rose and went to his lords, who were standing a little way off, staring at their master, and talking in low tones about his strange conduct.

"Learn from this to keep your tongues from idle praise," said he sternly. "No king is great and powerful but God. He only can say to the sea: 'Thus far shalt thou come, and no farther.'"

=The Brave Men of Calais=

Many years ago, King Edward III of England took the town of Calais from the French king. He could not take it by force, for the walls were very strong, but he succeeded by another plan. He placed his soldiers all round the walls, and would let no one go into the town to take food to the people. Inside the walls, the people waited bravely, but at last all their food was eaten, and then they knew that if they tried to hold the town any longer they would starve.

So the governor sent word to King Edward that he would give up the city, and begged him to have mercy on the people.

But Edward was angry. "Tell your masters," said he to the messenger, "that I will not spare the people unless six of the chief men come out to me, with their feet bare, and ropes around their necks."

At this sad news, the poor starving people cried aloud. But soon six brave men were found who were ready to die for their countrymen, and, with their feet bare and ropes around their necks, they went out to the place where King Edward was waiting, with Queen Philippa and the English nobles.

"Great king!" said the men, "we bring you the keys of our town, and we pray you to have mercy on us."

But the king would not listen. "Take them away and cut off their heads," he cried angrily. And when his nobles begged him to spare such brave enemies he would not listen to them.

Then Queen Philippa, whose heart was filled with pity for the poor men, fell upon her knees.

"My lord," she cried, "if you love me, give me the lives of these men."

King Edward could not bear to see his beautiful queen in tears upon the ground, so he raised her, saying: "Lady, I wish you had not been here, for I cannot say you nay. Take the men, they are yours."

Then Queen Philippa joyfully led the brave men away, and gave them food and clothes, and sent them back to their friends. So they, and all the people of Calais, were saved.

=Wat Tyler=

In our days, all people in our land, except prisoners, are free to go where they will, and to do what work they please. In olden times it was not so. Then, the poorer people were treated like slaves by the nobles; they had to work hard for their masters, and they were not allowed to move from one place to another without asking leave.

This was hard, and it made the people very angry. In the days of the boy-king Richard II, a great many workmen made up their minds to obey the nobles no longer. They banded themselves together in a large army, chose a man named Wat Tyler for their leader, and marched to London.

The Mayor of London tried to stop them, by pulling up the drawbridge which crossed the river Thames, but they forced him by threats to let it down again. Then they rushed through the streets of London, frightening all the people they met by their wild looks and cries. They broke open the prisons, and set the prisoners free, and burned the palaces of the nobles, but they killed no man and robbed none.

The nobles were much alarmed. With young King Richard at their head, they rode out to meet this army, and to ask the people what they wanted.

"We want to be free, and we want our children to be free after us," said Wat Tyler.

"I promise you that you shall have your wish, if you will return quietly to your homes," said the king.

At this, the people shouted with joy, and all might have been well; but the mayor, seeing Wat Tyler raise his hand, and fearing that he was going to strike the king, drew his sword, and killed the leader of the people.

Then the joyful shouts changed to cries and growls of anger. Arms were raised, and the crowd began to press forward. In a minute the little band of nobles would have been attacked, but the boy-king saw the danger. Boldly riding to meet the angry people, he put himself at their head. "What need ye, my masters?" cried he. "I am your captain and your king. Follow me."

The crowd stopped, surprised by this bold act; the loud cries ceased, and swords and staves were lowered. These rough men did not wish to harm their young sovereign, but to free him from the nobles who gave him evil counsel. They were greatly pleased to find him upon their side, and, with perfect trust and loyalty, they followed where he led; and so for a time the danger was past.

=Bruce and the Spider=

Robert Bruce, King of Scotland, sad and weary, lay upon the floor of a lonely cave among the hills. His mind was full of anxious thoughts, for he was hiding from the English soldiers, who sought to take him--alive or dead--to their king. The brave Scots had lost many battles, and Bruce began to fear that he would never make his dear country free.

"I will give up trying," said he.

Just then a spider, hanging from the roof of the cave, by a long thread, swung before the king's eyes, and he left his gloomy thoughts to see what the little creature would do.

The spider began to climb its thread slowly, pulling itself up little by little; but it had gone only a short way, when it slipped and fell to the end once more.

Again and again it started to climb, and again and again it slipped back, until it had fallen six times.

"Surely the silly little creature will now give up trying to climb so fine a thread," thought Bruce. But the spider did no such thing. It started on its upward journey yet a seventh time, and this time it did not fall. Up it went, inch by inch, higher and higher, until at last it reached the roof, and was safely at home.

"Bravo!" cried the king. "The spider has taught me a lesson. I too will try until I win."

Bruce kept his word. He led his brave men to battle, again and again, until at last the English were driven back to their own land, and Scotland was free.

=Richard and Blondel=

In a gloomy prison, in a foreign land, lay Richard I, King of England. He had been with some other kings to a great war in the Holy Land, where he had won battles, and taken cities, and gained much honour. Men called him Richard Lion-heart, because he was as brave as a lion in fighting, and his soldiers loved him and would follow him into any danger. One strong city, called Acre, held out for nearly two years against the armies of the other kings, but when Richard arrived it gave way almost at once.