Fifty Famous Stories Retold - James Baldwin

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which he held in France, that William should be the King of England, and that Henry should have no land at all, but only a chest of gold.

      So it hap-pened in the end very much as the wise men had fore-told. Robert, the Short Stocking, was bold and reckless, like the hawk which he so much admired. He lost all the lands that his father had left him, and was at last shut up in prison, where he was kept until he died.

      William Rufus was so over-bear-ing and cruel that he was feared and hated by all his people. He led a wicked life, and was killed by one of his own men while hunting in the forest.

      And Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had not only the chest of gold for his own, but he became by and by the King of England and the ruler of all the lands that his father had had in France.

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      King Henry, the Handsome Scholar, had one son, named William, whom he dearly loved. The young man was noble and brave, and every-body hoped that he would some day be the King of England.

      One summer Prince William went with his father across the sea to look after their lands in France. They were wel-comed with joy by all their people there, and the young prince was so gallant and kind, that he won the love of all who saw him.

      But at last the time came for them to go back to England. The king, with his wise men and brave knights, set sail early in the day; but Prince William with his younger friends waited a little while. They had had so joyous a time in France that they were in no great haste to tear them-selves away.

      Then they went on board of the ship which was waiting to carry them home. It was a beau-ti-ful ship with white sails and white masts, and it had been fitted up on purpose for this voyage.

      The sea was smooth, the winds were fair, and no one thought of danger. On the ship, every-thing had been ar-ranged to make the trip a pleasant one. There was music and dancing, and everybody was merry and glad.

      The sun had gone down before the white-winged vessel was fairly out of the bay. But what of that? The moon was at its full, and it would give light enough; and before the dawn of the morrow, the narrow sea would be crossed. And so the prince, and the young people who were with him, gave themselves up to mer-ri-ment and feasting and joy.

      The ear-li-er hours of the night passed by; and then there was a cry of alarm on deck. A moment after-ward there was a great crash. The ship had struck upon a rock. The water rushed in. She was sinking. Ah, where now were those who had lately been so heart-free and glad?

      Every heart was full of fear. No one knew what to do. A small boat was quickly launched, and the prince with a few of his bravest friends leaped into it. They pushed off just as the ship was be-gin-ning to settle beneath the waves. Would they be saved?

      They had rowed hardly ten yards from the ship, when there was a cry from among those that were left behind.

      "Row back!" cried the prince. "It is my little sister. She must be saved!"

      The men did not dare to disobey. The boat was again brought along-side of the sinking vessel. The prince stood up, and held out his arms for his sister. At that moment the ship gave a great lurch forward into the waves. One shriek of terror was heard, and then all was still save the sound of the moaning waters.

      Ship and boat, prince and prin-cess, and all the gay com-pa-ny that had set sail from France, went down to the bottom together. One man clung to a floating plank, and was saved the next day. He was the only person left alive to tell the sad story.

      When King Henry heard of the death of his son his grief was more than he could bear. His heart was broken. He had no more joy in life; and men say that no one ever saw him smile again.

      Here is a poem about him that your teacher may read to you, and perhaps, after a while, you may learn it by heart.

      HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.

      The bark that held the prince went down,

       The sweeping waves rolled on;

       And what was England's glorious crown

       To him that wept a son?

       He lived, for life may long be borne

       Ere sorrow breaks its chain:

       Why comes not death to those who mourn?

       He never smiled again.

      There stood proud forms before his throne,

       The stately and the brave;

       But who could fill the place of one—

       That one beneath the wave?

       Before him passed the young and fair,

       In pleasure's reckless train;

       But seas dashed 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 tour-ney's victor crowned

       Amid 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 poured,

       And strangers took the kins-man'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!

      Mrs. Hemans.

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      There was once a king of England whose name was John. He was a bad king; for he was harsh and cruel to his people, and so long as he could have his own way, he did not care what became of other folks. He was the worst king that England ever had.

      Now, there was in the town of Can´ter-bur-y a rich old abbot who lived in grand style in a great house called the Abbey. Every day a hundred noble men sat down with him to dine; and fifty brave knights, in fine velvet coats and gold chains, waited upon him at his table.

      When King John heard of the way in which the abbot lived, he made up his mind to put a stop to it. So he sent for the old man to come and see him.

      "How now, my good abbot?" he said. "I hear that you keep a far better house than I. How dare you do such a thing? Don't you know that no man in the land ought to live better than the king? And I tell you that no man shall."

      "O king!" said the abbot, "I beg to say that I am spending nothing but what is my own. I hope that you will not think ill of me for making things pleasant for my friends and the brave knights who are with me."

      "Think ill of you?" said the king. "How can I help but think ill of you? All that there is in this broad land is mine by right; and how do you dare to put me to shame by living in grander style than I? One would think that you were trying to be king in my place."

      "Oh, do not say so!" said the abbot "For I"—

      "Not

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