CHAPTER III.

FIRST MEETING OF THE CLUB.

Normandy.--Story of the New Forest and the Red King.--Story of Robert of Normandy.--Story of the White Ship.--Story of the Frolicsome Duke and the Tinker's Good Fortune.--Master Lewis commends the Club.--The Secret.

When the boys were allowed to go to Boston,--once a week,--they had access to the fine Public Library of which that city is justly so proud. It was observed that the whole character of their reading changed from merely entertaining to the most instructive books, after the forming of the Club. Such picturesque historical works as Guizot's "France" and "England," Palgrave's "Norman Conquest," Froude's "England," Agnes Strickland's "Lives of the Queens," became especial favorites. Even Tommy Toby read through Dickens's Child's History of England, several of Abbott's short histories of the kings and queens, and a book of marvellous old English ballads.

The Club met as appointed. Each of the six boys had made his best preparation for the exercises of the evening. All the boys were present; and Master Lewis and his little daughter Florence sat beside young President Wynn, on the platform.

Wyllys Wynn was the first speaker.

"Although President of the Club," he said, "I am expected to take part in these exercises, and have been asked to present my story first. Normandy is our subject to-night, and there is no name that is so famously associated with the old Norman cities we expect to visit--Caen, Falaise, Rouen, Fécamp, St. Valery--as that of William the Conqueror. I will tell you the story of his life, and call it

THE NEW FOREST.

"About eight hundred years ago, William, Duke of Normandy, aspired to become King of England, and to wear the crown whose rightful claimant was Edgar Atheling. He made Harold, another heir to the English crown, support his claim, and take an oath to be true to him. To make Harold feel how solemn was an oath, he obliged him to swear it over a chest full of dead men's bones.

"But Harold disregarded the oath that he had taken over the chest of bones in Normandy; and, when old Edward, who was called The Confessor, died, he seized the crown and royal treasure for himself, being counselled to do so by an assembly of nobles called the Witenagemote.

"Duke William was an ambitious and a fiery-minded man. He gathered an army of sixty thousand men, and a fleet of a thousand vessels and transports; and one September day he sailed from St. Valery with his army and fleet, the trumpets sounding and a thousand banners rising to the wind. His own ship had many-colored sails: from its mast floated the banner of the three Norman Lions; and a golden boy, pointing to England, glittered on the prow.

"This fleet came into the harbor of Pevensey. He led his army to Hastings; and there, on a bright afternoon in October, he met the army of Harold.

"Duke William reviewed his army, and caused his men to pray for victory ere they laid down beneath the moon and stars to rest. In the morning, they sung an ode, called the War Song of Roland: then a battle was fought, and the three Norman Lions at night waved triumphantly over the field.

"Harold was slain, and the monks wandered over the battle-ground to find his body. It was discovered at last, a despoiled and discrowned figure, by Edith Swansneck, a beautiful girl who loved Harold and whom the dead king had loved.

"Then William returned to Normandy. Fécamp blazed in his honor, and all the cities received him with loud acclaim.

"A hard king was Duke William. With his great army of Normans, he marched over England, suppressing all who opposed him. The rivers were tinged with blood, the beautiful English towns were reduced to ash-heaps, the land was blackened with fire: he is said to have killed or maimed a hundred thousand people.

"Having conquered England, he sought enjoyment, and turned his attention to field-sports and to hunting. He had sixty-eight royal forests, full of stags and deer; but he permitted no one but himself and the people of his court to hunt in them.

"At Winchester, he thought it would be a fine thing to have a great hunting-park near his residence. There was a tract of country in the county of Hampshire, very picturesque and beautiful, that he determined to use for this purpose. But there were churches scattered among the hills; and thousands of peasants dwelt here, who had rude but happy homes.

"William cared little for the churches and less for the homes of the peasants; so he sent soldiers to burn the former, and to drive the people away from the latter.

"Nothing was done by the ruthless king to supply the wants of the people, or to relieve their misery. They left their native hills with wailing and weeping and wringing of hands, uttering imprecations on the head of the Conqueror and upon his race.

"The stags multiplied, and the deer increased; and delightful to the Norman was the New Forest, on the golden autumn days.

"One day, one of the king's sons, a fair-haired youth, named Richard, went to hunt in this New Forest.

"He encountered a stag. The animal, maddened by the attack, rushed upon the prince, and killed him.

"As the dead body was borne from the forest, broken and stained with blood, the people said that this was a beginning of the reckoning God would make with William, and that the New Forest would prove an unquiet place to the Conqueror and to those of his blood.

"Foolish and superstitious stories began to be circulated. The people said that the New Forest was haunted; that spirits were seen, by moonlight, gliding among the dusky trees; that demons revelled there when the tempest arose, and the lightnings flashed, and the rain dashed on the great oaks. The old foresters did not wish to return to it now. They talked of it in low whispers, as of a place accursed.

"At last William died. It was a bitter death. The Conqueror trembled before that CONQUEROR to whom the princes of the earth must yield.

"It is said that, when he had reached the height of his fame, he declared that he would surrender his crowns and kingdom to know again 'peace of mind, the love of a true friend, or the innocent sleep of a child.'

"When his last hour drew near, the nobles fled from his bedside. His servants pillaged the apartment where he died, and rolled the dead body from the bed, and left it lying on the floor. A good knight took it up, and carried it to St. Stephen's Church, at Caen.

"He left three sons, William Rufus, Robert, and Henry. To the first he bequeathed England, to the second Normandy, and to the last £5,000.

"William Rufus now became king of England. He was called the Red King, because he had a red face and red hair; and a red king he proved to be, in another sense.

"The Red King, like his father, quarrelled with everybody, and, like him, sought and found enjoyment by hunting in the New Forest.

"One pleasant day in May, when the leaves were tender, and the ferny hills were sunny and sprinkled with flowers, another Richard, the son of Robert of Normandy, went to hunt in the New Forest. After a merry time, he was accidentally shot by an arrow. Again a mournful retinue came out of the forest, bearing the body of a prince, stained with blood.

"August came, with its young deer and newly fledged birds. The Red King, with his brother Henry and a great court-party, went to the New Forest, to spend some days in hunting and feasting. The first day sped merrily, and was followed by a banquet. It was held at a place called Malwood-Keep, a famous lodge for royal hunting-parties.

"The next night, a man with a coal-cart was riding in the New Forest, when he discovered a body lying by the way, pierced by an arrow in the breast. He laid it in his dirty cart, and jogged on. It was the Red King.

"Many stories are told of the manner in which the king was killed. Some say that he was accidentally shot by Sir Walter Tyrrel, a famous hunter in those days.

"It is said that the king and Sir Walter came upon a stag. The king drew his bow, and the string broke.

"'Shoot, Walter!' said the king.

"The arrow flew, struck a tree, glanced, and buried itself in the king's breast. He died where the poor peasants had foretold he would die, in the New Forest.

"We hope to visit Caen, and its cathedral, an edifice that was founded by the Conqueror, and that has grown for nearly a thousand years. The Conqueror's tomb is before the altar, but his bones were scattered by the Huguenots in 1562."

* * * * *

Wyllys Wynn's story was applauded; and Master Lewis, amid the applause, said audibly,--

"Excellent!"

Frank Gray followed:--

"Our President has told you the history of William the Conqueror and of one of his sons, in his story of the New Forest. I will try to tell you

THE STORY OF ROBERT OF NORMANDY.

"Robert of Normandy was the second son of the Conqueror, and succeeded his father in the dukedom. He was unlike the rest of the Conqueror's sons,--an easy, generous, pleasure-loving fellow; honest in heart, and believing with wonderful simplicity that the world was all sunshine, and that all the people in it were much like himself.

"I am sorry to say, however, that he once rebelled against his father, whom he asked to give him the old Norman kingdom. 'I am not apt to undress before I go to bed,' said the Conqueror.

"He began to rule independently, and William besieged him in the old fortress of Gerberoi.

"In the midst of the battle, Robert unseated a tall knight, and was about to despatch him, when he found him to be his father.

"He was greatly touched at the discovery, and kneeling down said, 'I pray you forgive me.' He then raised his father, and they were reconciled.

"There is a castle in Normandy, which we hope to visit,--a mountain of towers rising out of the sea. Pagan priests possessed it, holy hermits succeeded them, and the Norman Dukes regarded it as their stronghold. I have brought with me a picture of it, that you may see. It is a fortress built upon a rock; and, when the great tide sweeps in, it stands in the sea, lofty and doubly guarded.

"The Red King and Robert once were engaged in a war with their brother Henry, who shut himself up in this fortress. At last, the water in the fortress failed. The Red King was happy, but Robert began to pity his famishing brother. So he sent him some bottles of wine.

"'A fine way to wage war,' said the Red King.

"'What,' said Robert, 'shall we let our brother die of thirst? Where shall we get another, when he is gone?'

"We will see how Henry returned this love and brotherly kindness.

"It was considered very pious, in those rude times, for a person to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, in order to visit the Holy Sepulchre. The Turks, who held the Holy City, abused the Christian pilgrims. An eloquent and a fiery-minded monk, called Peter the Hermit, believing it to be the duty of the Christian princes to wrest the Holy Sepulchre from the power of the Turks, began to urge his opinions throughout Europe. An intense excitement was created.

"Among his most fervent disciples was Robert of Normandy. In his enthusiasm, the thoughtless, generous-hearted fellow sold his dominions for a certain period to the Red King, and with the money equipped a splendid retinue of knights and soldiers for service in the Holy Land.

"He went to Jerusalem at the head of this glittering train, and, in union with other Christian princes and nobles, besieged the Holy City, subdued its defenders, and obtained possession of the Saviour's tomb.

"Robert was one of the most conspicuous leaders in the first crusade; and, of all the princes who aided in the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, he sacrificed the most.

"When he returned from the East, he stopped in Italy. He was fond of minstrelsy, and of works of art; and he feasted his eyes on the fading grandeur of the old Italian cities. As he was the rightful claimant to the throne of England, after the death of the Red King, and as his exploits in the Holy Land had added to his fame, the Italians greatly admired him.

"While stopping in Italy among the minstrels, the pictures, and the loveliness of that dreamy and enchanted land, he fell in love with a lady of marvellous beauty.

"Her name was Sibylla. He married her, and in a little time returned to Normandy, to find that his younger brother, Henry, had assumed the throne of England, and was governing with a high hand.

"It seems that the Red King had died while Robert was tarrying in Italy, enamoured of Sibylla; and Henry, without waiting to see him buried, had seized the royal treasure and the diadem, telling the nobles that Robert had become King of Jerusalem.

"Having established his government, he was prepared to give Robert a hot reception, if he should make any trouble about the matter on his return.

"Robert, of course, asserted his claim to the throne. Some of the nobles sustained Henry in his usurpation, others were for Robert.

"Henry, however, by dint of much fawning and lying, persuaded Robert to relinquish his claim to England, and to be content with the little duchy of Normandy, and with a pension, which he promised to pay.

"So the good-natured Robert governed in Normandy, and a good-natured government he had. He was so weak and good-natured that he used to allow his servants to steal his clothes, while he was lying in bed in the morning.

"Henry, like the Red King before him, thought that Robert's government was rather loose, and that it would be a very benevolent thing to relieve the Normans of his misrule. For this reason, he went over to Normandy with an army, took possession of the country, and established his own hard rule, thus stealing from his brother the fair-skied duchy that the Conqueror had given him. Having accomplished this, he settled it that Robert was a very troublesome fellow, and that the proper place for him was a prison; and he accordingly put him in one.

"He was not satisfied even then.

"One day there appeared in the apartments of the castle where Robert was confined some stone-hearted men, by order from the king. They heated a piece of metal red-hot, and then deliberately burned out poor Robert's eyes.

"Beautiful, loving eyes they were; and what sights they had seen,--the minarets of the East glimmering in the hot sun and shady moon, the cool palm-groves along the Jordan, the splendid streets of Antioch, the City of the Great King, the Holy Sepulchre with its golden lamps, Italy with its deep skies and empurpled hills! Twenty-eight years was poor Robert imprisoned, and then he died."

* * * * *

Frank's contribution was well received.

"I would like to add something to the touching narrative we have just heard," said Master Lewis. "I would like to tell you about the great sorrow that came to King Henry, after he had so wronged his brother. Allow me to relate to you

THE STORY OF THE WHITE SHIP.

"Henry had a son--Prince Henry--whom he intensely loved. The prince was wild and dissipated, and as much a despot at heart as his father. He once boasted that, when he became king, he would yoke the English to the plough, like oxen.

"The king's plottings, and much of his cruel treatment of his brother Robert, sprang from his strong desire that this son might succeed him on the throne.

"Did Prince Henry succeed his father as king?

"The people of Normandy and other French territories under the Norman crown rebelled against Henry. The king, by the aid of the Pope, pacified the discontented people by fair promises, and a peace was made, upon which the king and the prince and a great retinue of nobles went to Normandy, to arrange some very important matters of state.

"During this state visit, the Norman nobles were induced to recognize, with great pomp, Prince Henry as the successor to the king; and a marriage was contracted for the prince.

"In honor of these events, there were gala-days and festivals, and at every scene of rejoicing the prince was the glittering star.

"The heart of the king swelled with pride. He had reason to hope that all his plottings, and pilferings of crowns and dominions, were about to end happily. The future seemed almost without a cloud.

"One bright day in autumn, after these events, the prince and a gay party prepared to embark for England.

"There came to the king a man by the name of Fitz-Stephen, who said that he was the son of the sea-captain who conveyed the Conqueror to England on the ship with many-colored sails. He said, also, that he had a beautiful ship, all white, and manned by fifty sea-browned sailors, and that he would deem it a great honor to take the royal party to England.

"'I have ordered my ship,' said the king, after a little deliberation; 'but yours shall have the honor of conveying the prince and young nobles to England.'

"So the prince, and one hundred and twenty-two nobles, and eighteen ladies of rank, all young, and full of merry life, went on board of the White Ship.

"The king sailed away while it was yet day, leaving the prince and his company still in the harbor.

"'Now,' said the prince, 'the king has gone, we will have a merry-making. The time is ours, and we can spend it right jovially on the deck of our beautiful ship.'

"He then ordered Fitz-Stephen to provide three casks of wine for the fifty sailors. The harbor grew dusky, and the hunter's moon rose, shimmering the wide waters. The wine flowed freely, the nobles danced, and the beautiful ladies joined heartily in the revelries.

"The great sea sobbed before and around them, but merry music filled their ears.

"At length, they shot out of the moonlit harbor. The sailors were excited and half-drunk. The royal party urged them to row with speed, in order to overtake the vessels of the king. Fitz-Stephen was in the same condition as his crew, and steered recklessly.

"Soon there came a terrific crash. The White Ship reeled and reeled, but went no farther. She had struck upon rocks, and the mirth was turned to wailing and woe.

"As the ship was sinking, the prince leaped on board a boat. As he was rowed away, he heard his sister calling for help from the deck of the staggering vessel. Putting back, he reached the place just as the White Ship was making her last plunge. Great numbers of the terrified and desperate young men leaped on board of the boat. It overturned, and the prince went down in the deep waters.

"Thus in a moment were baffled the purposes of King Henry for so many guilty years; and, of the three hundred souls that made merry in the moonlit harbor of Balfleur, but one survived to tell the dismal tale.

"For some days no one dared to approach the king with the dreadful intelligence. At length, a little boy was sent to him to break the news, who, weeping, knelt at his feet, and told him that the White Ship was lost, and the prince had perished. The king fell to the floor as dead. The historians tell us that he never smiled again.

"I do not greatly pity him; for he lied again, and he stole again, and he made the people suffer again, and I have little doubt that he smiled again, when some plot of his crafty old age had ended to his liking.

"Mrs. Hemans, in a short historical poem, tenderly touches on the sorrow of King Henry for the lost prince; and, as I have not alluded to that sorrow in a very charitable spirit, I will quote the stanzas:--

HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

"The bark that held a prince went down, The sweeping waves roll'd on; And what was England's glorious crown To him that wept a son? He lived,--for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death for those who mourn?-- He never smiled again!

There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave; But which could fill the place of one, That one beneath the wave? Before him pass'd the young and fair, In pleasure's reckless train; But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair-- He never smiled again!

He sat where festal bowls went round, He heard the minstrel sing, He saw the tourney's victor crown'd, Amidst the knightly ring: A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep-- He never smiled again.

Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd, And strangers took the kinsman's place At many a joyous board; Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, Were left to heaven's bright rain, Fresh hopes were born for other years-- He never smiled again!"

TOMMY TOBY'S STORY OF THE FROLICSOME DUKE.

Tom Toby's turn came next, and at the announcement of his name there was a sudden lighting up of faces. Tom's face, which was usually rather comical, assumed a more mirth-loving expression than ever.

"You said," he began, "that we were to visit Ghent and Bruges. I believe these towns were in old Flanders, and that Flanders was in Burgundy. One of the most clever rulers of whom I ever read was Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, though he had some faults when he used to be young like me.

"The good Duke married Eleonora, sister to the King of Portugal. The wedding was celebrated in great pomp at Bruges, and the merry-makings lasted a week.

"Christopher Sly was a tinker, and a tinker was a man who used to 'roam the countries around,' crying, 'Old brass to mend!' and who repaired the good people's broken pots and kettles.

"Christopher heard of the great wedding in his travels, and came to Bruges to enjoy the merry-making with the rest.

"He had only one pair of breeches, and they were made of leather. He deemed them suitable for all occasions. He had never arrived at the luxury of a coat, but in its place he wore a large leather apron, which covered his great shoulders, like the armor of a knight.

"Christopher had one bad habit. He loved ale overmuch, and he used to drink so deeply on festive occasions as to affect the steadiness both of his mind and body.

"Christopher enjoyed the gala-days. He mingled in the gay processions that followed the ducal pair to the tournament; he gazed with loyal pride on the horses with their trappings of crimson and gold; he followed the falconers to the hunting-parks, and listened to the music that led the dance at night in the torch-lit palace.

"The ducal wedding took place in the deep of winter; and one night, soon after the joyful event, and while Bruges was yet given up to festivities, there fell a great snow-storm, blocking the streets and silencing the town.

"Christopher's money was gone, and the falling weather chilled not only his blood, but his spirits. He wandered about in the storm, going from ale-house to ale-house, and receiving hospitality, until the town of Bruges seemed to revolve around him as its inhabitants around the Duke. Still he plodded away through the streets, longing to see the warm fires glow and the torches gleam in the ducal palace. When he had nearly reached the palace, the town began to spin and whirl around him at such a rate that presently he sank in the chilly snow and knew no more.

"'I am tired of the palace,' said the Duke to some courtiers. 'Let us go into the streets this blustering night: it may be that we shall meet with an adventure.'

"The Duke, with a few muffled followers, glided out of one of the palace gates, and the gleamings of their lanterns shot down the street. Presently the Duke stumbled over some object, lying half-buried in the snow.

"'What's here?'

"'A dead man,' answered a courtier.

"'A drunken tinker,' answered an attendant, turning over the body of a man lying like a log in the snow. 'How he snores! Dead drunk, as I live!'

"'He would perish here before morning,' said the Duke.

"'What is to be done?' asked a courtier.

"'Take him to the palace, and we will have some sport with him. I will cause him to be washed and dressed and perfumed, and to be laid in a chamber of state. He will awake sober in the morning, when we will persuade him that _he_ is the Duke, and that we are his attendants. To-morrow the whole Court of Burgundy shall serve a poor tinker!'

"The attendants carried the unconscious tinker to the palace, where they washed him, and, putting upon him an elegant night-dress, laid him on a silk-curtained bed, in a very gorgeous chamber.

"The poor tinker, on waking in the morning, looked about the room in wonder. He concluded that he must be dreaming, or that he had become touched in mind, or that he had died the night before and had been so happy as to get to heaven.

"At last, the Duke entered the apartment in the habit of the ducal chamberlain.

"'What will your Worship have this morning?' asked the Duke.

"The tinker stared.

"'Has your Worship no commands?'

"'I am Christopher Sly,--Sly, the tinker. Call me not your Worship.'

"'You have not fully recovered yet, I see. But you will be yourself again soon. What suit will your Worship wear to-day? Which doublet, and what stockings and shoes?'

"'I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor more shoes than feet; nay, sometime, more feet than shoes. I tell you I am Christopher Sly, and I am a tinker,' was the puzzled reply.

"But the ducal chamberlain only bowed the more.

"Sly continued to look about him in amazement. At last, he said, with much hesitation,--

"'You may bring me my best suit. The day is pleasant. I will dress becomingly.'

"'Now you are yourself again. I must hasten to inform the Court of your recovery. I must fly to her Grace the Duchess, and say, "The Duke, the Duke is himself again!"'

"'The Duke! I tell you I am Christopher Sly,--old Sly's son, of Burton Heath,--by birth a peddler and by trade a tinker. Duke Sly! No. Duke Christopher! or, better, Duke Christophero! Marry, friend! wouldn't that sound well? It may be I am a duke, for all. Go ask Marian Hacket, the buxom inn-keeper of Wincot, if she don't know Christopher Sly,--Duke Christophero; and if she say I do not owe her fourteen pence for small ale, then call me the biggest liar and knave in Christendom!'

"The servants presently brought the poor tinker a silver basin, 'full of rose-water, and bestrewed with flowers.' Then they brought him a suit of crimson, trimmed with lace and starred. The bewildered fellow stared awhile in silence; then he slowly put on the gorgeous apparel.

"The tinker next was conducted to a magnificent banqueting-hall, where was spread a rich feast. The tables smoked with venison and sparkled with wine. He was led to a high seat beneath a canopy of silk and gold, the Duchess following, and seating herself by his side. Knights and ladies filled the tables, and the tinker began to feast and to sip wine like a duke indeed.

"'I wish'--said he, suddenly.

"'What is your wish?' asked the Duchess.

"'I wish that old Stephen Sly was here, and John Naps and Peter Turf, and my wife Joan, and Marian Hacket: wouldn't it be jolly?'

"Christopher had never smacked his lips over such wine before, and he drank so deeply that his ideas became mixed again. The feast ended. The ladies sung and the musicians played, but Christopher continued drinking as long as he could hold a beaker. He began to be sleepy, and presently tumbled from his high seat beneath the silken canopy to the floor,

'Where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before.'

"And here the reign of Duke Christophero came to a sudden end. The real Duke ordered the attendants to take him away, and to put upon him his 'old leather garments again.'

"'When the night is well advanced,' said the Duke, 'take him back to the place where we found him, and there watch his behavior when he awakes.'

"Poor Christopher Sly woke in the morning to find his glory gone. The sun shone on the snow-covered gables of Bruges. He looked around him with woe in his face, as he saw the snow beneath him instead of a couch of down, and the sky above him, instead of a silken canopy, sprinkled with gold. He snuffed the frosty air, and, heaving a deep groan, he said, 'And I am old Stephen Sly's son, after all. I have seen a vision. I will go home, and take my scolding from Joan.'"

"When we visit Bruges," added Tommy, "I hope we may all visit the resting-place of Duke Christopher Sly."

* * * * *

Tommy's story, although not of great value to the young travellers, was loudly applauded by the Club.

"I have heard," said Wyllys, "that there is a spire in Bruges four hundred and fifty feet high, and a tower that contains forty-eight bells; but I never heard before of Duke Christopher."

Ernest Wynn, who spoke French well and took a lively interest in French poetry, sang a Norman seaside song, which is a favorite in some of the coast towns, and is especially employed by the fishermen of Étretat, when a ship goes out to sea in a storm. It began--

Le matin, quand je me réveille, Je vois mon Jésus venir, Il est beau à merveille, C'est lui qui me réveille. C'est Jésus! C'est Jésus! Mon aimable Jésus!

Je le vois, mon Jésus, je le vois Porter sa brillante croix, Là haut sur cette montagne: Sa mère l'accompagne. C'est Jésus, C'est Jésus, Mon aimable Jésus.

In the morn, when I awake, My Jesus near I see. He is wonderfully beautiful-- It is He that wakens me. It is Jesus, It is Jesus, My lovable Jesus!

I see, I see my Jesus Bear over the mountain high His cross of light, accompanied The Holy Mother by. It is Jesus, It is Jesus, My lovable Jesus!

The selection was a rare one, and was mentioned by Master Lewis as being exceptionally creditable.

George Howe and Leander Towle presented acceptable exercises on "Norman Industries" and "Peasant Customs." The last topic seemed to excite Tommy Toby to try to throw some farther light on this romantic and interesting country.

"Would you like to know what lovely-looking creatures these Norman peasant girls are, and how they look?" said he. "Well, they look [going to the blackboard and drawing with a crayon a moment] just like those."

"I am very gratified," said Master Lewis, "at the amount of historic study our proposed tour has already stimulated. One must read and study _to see_. Dr. Johnson used the comparison that 'some people would see more in a single ride in a Hempstead stage-coach than others would in a tour round the world.' Thoreau said,--

'If with fancy unfurled You leave your abode, You may go round the world By the old Marlboro' road.'

"You might have added many charming stories to those already told. In Calais, the last town of the Gallic dominions of the Plantagenets, we shall visit the scene of the siege of Edward III. and of the immortal Five who offered their lives as a ransom for their city, and whom good Queen Philippa spared. At Falaise, we may see the ruin of the castle from whose window Duke Robert, the father of the Conqueror, first saw Arletta, the tanner's daughter, and was enchanted with her beauty. At Rouen, we shall stand in the square where the Maid of Orleans was burned, and, in all places, in contrast with the dark romances of the past, will appear sunny hills, bowery valleys, and picturesque streams.

"I think it was Victor Hugo who said that 'Europe was the finest nation on the earth, France the finest country, and Normandy the finest part of France.' I do not ask you to accept his opinion, but Normandy is very beautiful."

Meetings of the Club were held every two weeks.

The boys tried to learn the secret which Tommy had been instructed to select. But he claimed that he had been instructed also to keep it.

"It would not be creditable to the Club to tell it now," he said.