"But look thou, Humphrey; Cousin Roger wist of a cookmaid that shall serve my turn," joyfully added Mrs. Treadwell. "When can she come, Roger, think you? I would fain have her a-work as soon as may be."

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Why, to-morrow, for aught I know," said Roger. "I reckon her goods and chattels shall not break many mules' backs."

"Is she strong and willing, Master Cordiner ?" inquired Kate.

"Willing enough, in good sooth," was the answer; "but as for strong- You had best see her and judge for yourselves."

Mrs. Treadwell looked rather uneasy at this remark.

"Eh, Cousin, one a-bed is enough at once!" said she.

"Nay, not so bad as that. You'll not find her a-bed, Doll, I count.”

CHAPTER IL

A CHAPTER OF ENGLISH HISTORY. "AND what news abroad, an' it like you, Master Cordiner ?" demanded Mr. Treadwell, having humbly waited to put his question till every one else seemed to have finished.

There was news enough; for seldom has there been a more stirring year in England than 1471. The Wars of the Roses were just over. For sixteen years "the lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown," and England was deluged from end to end with blood. Now King Edward was uppermost, and now King Henry; and the people, many of whom probably understood very little of the real gist of the matter, followed one or the other according as their early training led them. The dispute between them was really as follows.

Just a hundred years before this time, the old law of succession had been altered in England. The famous Black Prince, who died before his father, Edward III., had left a son behind him. Now, according to the present law, this son would just have stepped into his father's place, and would have been king after his grandfather. But the old law said: "No! The king's son must succeed the king. This child is not the king's son. The

link which bound him to the throne is gone; he is no more than any other nobleman. The next son of the king takes his dead brother's place." But in this case it happened that King Edward was very anxious that his little grandson, Richard, the child of his favourite son, should be his successor. His second son, Lionel, was dead too; but he had only left a daughter, and nobody ever thought of her. The third son, John, was alive; but he was not at all popular, and he had no wish to be a king. He willingly seconded his father's desire, and the law of succession was changed by Act of Parliament to what it is now. All the Lords and Commons swore to receive and obey the little Prince Richard as their next king, and the very first to take this oath was his uncle Prince John, who under the old law should have been king himself.

Things would most likely have gone pretty smoothly if Prince John had not had a son Henry, a child of ten years old, who took the oath to accept his cousin as king. But he was far more ambitious than his father, and he always considered that he had been tricked out of his rights. For twenty-three years, during which Richard reigned, Henry made him as uncomfortable as ever he could, and at the end of that time he thrust him off the throne, and sat down in his place. Poor King Richard lived only a few weeks afterwards; and how he died God knows, for men never knew with certainty. But he left no child to dispute the crown with his cousin Henry, who reigned for thirteen years as King Henry IV., and then went to give in his account at the bar of God. His son, Henry V., succeeded him peaceably enough; and he became so popular, from his successes in war with France, that nobody wished to disturb either him or his son, Henry VI., though the son was only a baby when he came to the throne. But as Henry VI. grew up he proved to be a very different sort of man from either his father or his grandfather. He was a good man, but not at all suited for a king in those stormy and warlike times. Beside this, he was subject to occasional fits of madness; and of course, during these times, a Regent had to be appointed to transact the affairs of state. The person upon

whom the nobles fixed as Regent was the king's cousin, Richard, Duke of York.

Now, Richard was descended from Prince Lionel, King Edward's second son, who had left only a daughter. He was her son's daughter's son. And when he found himself in the position of Regent, which he seems to have liked, he began thinking that he had a better right to be king than Henry himself. He had no reason to be attached to the family of Henry IV., who had been extremely cruel to several of Richard's relations. And the more he thought about it, the more satisfied he was that Henry was a usurper, and that he, Richard, ought to be King of England. He had just come nicely to this conclusion, when King Henry recovered from one of his attacks of insanity; and when Henry, in his gentle way, thanked his cousin for taking care of his affairs, and intimated that he was now able to manage for himself, Richard replied that he preferred to stay where he was, as he considered that he had much the best right to be there.

So began the Wars of the Roses. Henry took for his badge a red rose, and Richard a white one. The struggle between them was very long and bloody; Richard was killed in one of the battles, but it made no difference, for he left three sons who continued the war. These were Edward IV., George Duke of Clarence, and Richard Duke of Gloucester. We shall hear more of them presently.

The greatest and richest nobleman in the kingdom, at this time, was Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. He is said to have had an annual income of eighty thousand crowns; which, allowing for the difference in the value of money, would be equal to three hundred thousand pounds in our day. Six hundred retainers wore his livery-livery was much more commonly worn then, and was not restricted to servants; and six oxen were dressed every day for the breakfasts of his household. This magnificent nobleman, instead of throwing the weight of his influence into one scale, took part first with one of the royal claimants, and then with the other. He married his elder daughter, Isabel, to George Duke of Clarence, the brother of King Edward; and his younger daughter, Anne, to Edward Prince of Wales,

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the only child of King Henry. As the Earl had no son, these two young ladies would inherit all his vast wealth. Whether Henry or Edward therefore proved the final conqueror, the Earl of Warwick would have a friend at court.

This world holds a good many people of the Earl of Warwick's description. Sometimes, however, they overreach themselves.

It was now the beginning of June, 1471. News of battles and changes of all kinds had kept coming to London: but the Treadwells were very ignorant as to particulars, and glad to know as much as Roger Cordiner could tell them. He was much better informed than they were, for though he had not followed his master to battle, he had received all the news from persons who had been there.

"And my good Lord your master,-where is he now become, Master Cordiner ?" asked Humphrey.

"My master? Dear heart!-he fell at Barnet, Master Treadwell, this last fourteenth of April, when King Henry, that was, was captivated."

When we say "captivated" now, we mean pleased and delighted; but in Roger's days it meant taken prisoner.

"God have mercy of his soul!" muttered Humphrey.

"And when news thereof was brought to the Queen Margaret's grace," continued Roger, "she came in haste from France with my Lord Prince her son, and my young lady the Princess, and took command herself of the army. Her army and King Edward his men came together at Tewkesbury, this last fourth of May, and after a great battle the Queen Margaret was taken, and the Prince and the Princess, and the Prince's grace was brought afore King Edward in his tent on the field."

"My Lord Prince was but a youth, was he not, Master Cordiner ?"

"But a youth of eighteen years, Master Treadwell; and he the fairest and most wellfavoured young man that eyes may lightly see. And in the tent were King Edward and both his brethren, my noble Lords of Clarence and Gloucester. Then asked King Edward of my Lord Prince what moved him to take up arms against him. And he, hold

as could be, made answer that he came to recover the heritage of his father."

"Good lack!" exclaimed both Humphrey and Kate.

"Which he had no sooner said," Roger went on, "than King Edward strake him in the face with his gauntlet; and then first my Lord of Clarence, and after, every man in the tent saving my Lord of Gloucester, fell on him, and in a minute he lay on the floor of the tent, thrust through with a score of daggers."

Roger nodded. "Methinks it should be for her sake that my Lord drew not his sword upon him she loved. Howbeit, some three weeks later, as you know, King Edward came unto London, and with him these two poor gentlewomen, prisoners, the Queen Margaret and the Lady Princess."

"And what was done unto them ? "

The dialogue had been rather impatiently borne by Dorothy, who heartily wished it would keep nearer her level. She was very anxious to know more of her new cook, who was of vastly more importance in her eyes than all the kings and politics in the world. She tried once or twice to turn the conversation in the direction she wanted it to take; but both Humphrey and Kate were so interested that Dorothy's efforts were a failure. It was not every day that queens were sent to prison, or that princesses disappeared in an unaccountable manner.

O, the birds are sweetly singing;
I would let my voice be heard;
Mercies more each dawn is
bringing

Unto me than any bird.

Lo, the bees are softly humming
As they toil from bloom to bloom;
Be each duty, as 'tis coming,

Met with gladness not with gloom.
Lo, the streams are brightly flowing:

All their banks with flowers are fair; Let my life with love be glowing,

Blest and blessing everywhere. Lo, the trees are gently swaying To the changes of the wind; Let my heart be still obeying

Motions of God's Spirit kind.

Lo, the clouds are ever moving:

To dry meadows bringing rain; Let me still be working, loving, Helping want, and soothing pain. Lo, the sun is mounting gaily, But is silent as he walks; Let me do my duty daily,

Still like one who works not talks.

Lord, Thou art my King and Saviour,
Thou Thyself a child hast been;
Let me copy Thy behaviour

As at Nazareth Thou wast seen.

Thou wast subject to Thy Mother, Thou didst labour with Thine hands;

Thee I'll follow, and no other,

And obey Thy sweet commands.

seemed to reach and touch me more than when seeking to arrange and simplify them for my children. Therefore, I thank God that these children have been entrusted to me!

"For some time past several of them have come to me, once a week, for separate reading and prayer. These times I have enjoyed very much. I rather dissuaded than otherwise, unless any real desire after salvation was manifested; and I do think that this was so far effectual that nearly all of those who did come were, at least at the time, truly in earnest on the great question. I have one token of their love, given me, not by the then existing 2nd class,' but by those of both 1st and 2nd who were my children.'

This I treasure

for their sakes, yet the remembrance of their love is more than its outward sign.

"I trust it has been true bread which I have cast upon these waters; my Saviour

knows, and He only, my earnest longings that these little ones should be His own. I think I am quite content now that others should see the fruit, so that it be but truly borne; that others should enter into my feeble and wanting labours. But, in dear papa's words, I do most fervently pray, 'May all whose names are written here, In the Lamb's Book of Life appear!' "F. R. H., March, 1860."

During the present month the hearts of many parents will be prompting a thankful acknowledgment of the "labour of love" in which the Sunday School Teachers of England are engaged. This glimpse at the true nature and high aims of their work, as exemplified by one of their number, will, we are sure, help to deepen parental gratitude and incite parental prayer for the Divine blessing upon those who teach and those who are taught.

OHN GEORGE NAISH was born at the pretty little town of Midhurst in Sussex, on the 9th of April, 1824, and was educated at the grammar-school there. When a very young boy, his drawings were the pride and delight of his father, who had an ardent love for every kind of art, and contrived to get the walls of his dwelling-house covered with pictures, good and bad; while books and china were carried home from every auction within a reasonable distance, where there was a chance of "picking up" anything worth having, or presumed to be. Amid such surroundings the boy's natural taste found materials for encouragement.

When he was about nine years of age an accident cut short, at least for a time, his juvenile Art-career, and nearly terminated his life. While visiting an uncle at Chiches

ter, his cousin accidentally shot him in the left. eye with a steel-pointed arrow. A long illness and the loss of the sight of the eye were the result. On leaving school, so great was the fear of total blindness, if the remaining eye had too much strain upon it, that all idea of becoming an artist had to be abandoned, though very reluctantly, and the youth was placed with a farmer. The fresh air of a Southdown sheep-farm, and the invigorating exercise associated with the occupation, were found to be both agreeable and healthful. At the end of a year, however, a wandering artist came across his path, the old feelings associated with the "craft" returned, and Mr. Naish eventually found his way to London, with an introduction to the late W. Etty, R.A., from whom he received much kindness and attention.

After working steadily at the British Museum for some time, he was admitted a student in the school of the Royal Academy