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Queen Victoria and her Soldiers

Queen Victoria was always proud of her brave soldiers. In time of war, she gave orders that news of them was to be sent to her every day, and when the generals returned home, they were commanded to visit her, and to tell her of the bravery of the troops.

During the long war with the Russians in the Crimea, the British soldiers suffered greatly from the freezing winds, and rain, and snow, of that cold land. When Queen Victoria heard of this, she and her children worked with their own hands to make warm clothing for them. A great many of the wounded and sick men were sent home in ships, to be nursed in the English hospitals, and the Queen paid several visits to the poor fellows as they lay there. Moving from one bed to another, she cheered them with hopeful words, and listened gladly to their stories of the battles in which they had fought. When she saw that the hospitals were crowded, and not very comfortable, she told Parliament that better ones ought to be provided, and after a time this was done, and the fine hospital of Netley was built, of which the Queen laid the first stone.

Once, Queen Victoria herself gave medals to some wounded and disabled soldiers who had fought very bravely. Some of these men could not raise their arms to salute their queen; some could not walk, but had to be wheeled in chairs to her side; but all were proud to receive their medals of honour from her hands.

"Noble fellows," she wrote of them afterwards, "I feel as if they were my own children."

The Relief of Lucknow

During the time of the terrible Indian Mutiny, when most of the native troops rose against their British rulers, and vowed to kill every white person in the land, many cruel deeds were done. A great number of white people were slain before the British troops could come to their rescue, but in some places they managed to hold out until help reached them.

This was the case in the city of Lucknow, where the British governor with a small body of troops, and a great many women and children, took refuge in the Government House from a vast host of rebels who came to attack them. Many of the brave defenders were killed by the shot and shell of the enemy. Many others, and especially the little children, fell sick and died, for the heat was very great, and there was no good water to be had. Then, after many days, a small body of white soldiers fought their way into the city, and brought help and hope to the rest of the party. They were only just in time. Had they come a few days later they would have found the Government House a heap of ruins, and their friends dead, for the rebels were making a mine under the building and meant to blow it up with gunpowder. But alas! the newcomers were not strong enough to fight their way out of Lucknow with a crowd of helpless women and children and sick folk, so they, too were now shut in. For two months longer they held out. Then at last, when they had almost lost hope, the great Sir Colin Campbell with his brave Highlanders and other soldiers defeated the rebels, and brought the band of sick, starving, and weary people safely away.

Grace Darling

On a small rocky island, off the north coast of England, there is a lighthouse. A man named William Darling was once keeper of this lighthouse, and his daughter Grace lived with him. Every day Grace Darling helped her father to trim the lamps, so that at night they might shine brightly, and warn sailors to steer their ships away from the dangerous rocks, upon which they would have been dashed to pieces.

One stormy night Grace woke with the sound of screams in her ears. The screams came from the sea, so she knew that some ship must be in distress. She roused her father, but they could see nothing in the darkness. When daylight came, they found that a ship had been wrecked upon the rocks some way off, and a few people were clinging to the masts. Grace wished to go at once in a boat to save them; but at first her father hung back, for the wind and sea were wild, and he feared that the small boat would be overturned by the great waves. Then Grace ran to the boat, and seized an oar, for she could not bear to let the poor men die without trying to save them; and the father could not let his brave, daughter go alone, so he followed, and they rowed off.

It was hard work pulling against the strong sea, and several times the small boat was almost sunk. But at last it reached the wreck, and William Darling managed to land upon the rock, and with great care and skill helped the half-frozen people into the small boat. Then they were taken to the lighthouse, where Grace warmed and fed them, until the storm ceased, and they could return to their homes.

David Livingstone

At one time many people believed that the middle of Africa was a sandy desert, where nothing could live but camels and ostriches. But they were mistaken. The great traveller, David Livingstone, journeyed into this unknown country, and he found that it was not a desert but a beautiful land, where many tribes of black people dwelt. He also saw that these people were often seized by strangers, and taken away to be sold as slaves. This sight filled him with sadness, and he made up his mind to put a stop to this cruel traffic. He worked hard, tracing the courses of the rivers, finding the best tracts of land, and teaching the natives.

Then he urged his countrymen to send others after him to settle in this fair country, to help the natives to learn useful trades, and to drive away the slave-merchants.

For some years he was quite alone, with his black servants, in the midst of this wild land. His friends grew anxious, and sent Mr. Stanley, another great traveller, to look for him. Stanley marched for nearly a year before he found Livingstone. The old explorer was white and worn with sickness and hardship, and he was overjoyed to clasp once more the hand of a white man, and to hear again the English tongue. But he would not return to England. He said his work was not yet done, and he set out once more on his travels. It was his last journey. One morning his servants found him dead upon his bed. Since that time much has been done to make Central Africa a prosperous land. Other white men have followed where Livingstone led, and wherever they have settled, the wicked slave-trade has been stopped.

The Battle of Waterloo

Fields of waving corn, green woods, fruitful orchards, a pretty farmhouse and a few cottages such was the plain of Waterloo. And there, on a summer Sunday, nearly a hundred years ago, was fought a famous battle, in which the British troops under the Duke of Wellington beat the French army, and broke the power of the great Napoleon for ever.

"We have them," cried Napoleon as he saw the British drawn up before him. He thought it would be easy to destroy this army, so much smaller than his own, before their friends the Prussians, who were on the way to help them, came up. But he was mistaken. Wellington had placed his foot-soldiers in squares, and though the French horsemen, then the finest soldiers in the world, charged again and again, these little clumps of brave men stood fast. On his favourite horse "Copenhagen", Wellington rode to and fro cheering his men. "Stand firm, my lads,"

cried he. "What will they say to this in England?"

Not till evening, when the Prussians came, would he allow them to charge the French in their turn. Then, waving his cocked hat over his head, he gave the order, "The whole line will advance", and the impatient troops dashed forward. The French bravely tried to stand against this terrific charge, but they were beaten back, and the battle of Waterloo was ended.

Sixty thousand men lay dead or wounded under the fruit-trees, and among the trampled corn and grass at the end of that terrible day.

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Forward the Light!

Such was the order given during a great battle to the leader of a band of six hundred British soldiers. Forward! And there in front was a line of cannon ready to shoot them down as they came, while on the hills on either side of the valley were the guns and riflemen of the Russians.

"Surely someone has blundered! My men are sent to certain death,"

thought the leader of the Light Brigade.

"Forward! Attack!"

The order was repeated, and with the obedience of well-trained soldiers the Brigade started.

"Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die:

Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred."

On every side thundered the enemy's guns, and shot and shell fell thick and fast, but on through all rode the brave horsemen, on till they reached the cannon at the end of the valley. The smoke of the enemy's fire closed round and hid them from their watching comrades, but now and again the scarlet lines could be seen cutting down those who tried to stop their charge.

"Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd."

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.