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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.

      KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT

      I. THE THREE QUESTIONS

      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 another word!" cried the king. "Your fault is plain, and unless you can answer me three questions, your head shall be cut off, and all your riches shall be mine."

      "I will try to answer them, O king!" said the abbot.

      "Well, then," said King John, "as I sit here with my crown of gold on my head, you must tell me to within a day just how long I shall live. Sec-ond-ly, you must tell me how soon I shall ride round the whole world; and lastly, you shall tell me what I think."

      "O king!" said the abbot, "these are deep, hard questions, and I cannot answer them just now. But if you will give me two weeks to think about them, I will do the best that I can."

      "Two weeks you shall have," said the king; "but if then you fail to answer me, you shall lose your head, and all your lands shall be mine."

      The abbot went away very sad and in great fear. He first rode to Oxford. Here was a great school, called a u-ni-ver´si-ty, and he wanted to see if any of the wise pro-fess-ors could help him. But they shook their heads, and said that there was nothing about King John in any of their books.

      Then the abbot rode down to Cam-bridge, where there was another u-ni-ver-si-ty. But not one of the teachers in that great school could help him.

      At last, sad and sor-row-ful, he rode toward home to bid his friends and his brave knights good-by. For now he had not a week to live.

      II. THE THREE ANSWERS

      As the abbot was riding up the lane which led to his grand house, he met his shep-herd going to the fields.

      "Welcome home, good master!" cried the shepherd. "What news do you bring us from great King John?"

      "Sad news, sad news," said the abbot; and then he told him all that had happened.

      "Cheer up, cheer up, good master," said the shepherd. "Have you never yet heard that a fool may teach a wise man wit? I think I can help you out of your trouble."

      "You help me!" cried the abbot "How? how?"

      "Well," answered the shepherd, "you know that everybody says that I look just like you, and that I have some-times been mis-tak-en for you. So, lend me your servants and your horse and your gown, and I will go up to London and see the king. If nothing else can be done, I can at least die in your place."

      "My good shepherd," said the abbot, "you are very, very kind; and I have a mind to let you try your plan. But if the worst comes to the worst, you shall not die for me. I will die for myself."

      So the shepherd got ready to go at once. He dressed himself with great care. Over his shepherd's coat he threw the abbot's long gown, and he bor-rowed the abbot's cap and golden staff. When all was ready, no one in the world would have thought that he was not the great man himself. Then he mounted his horse, and with a great train of servants set out for London.

      Of course the king did not know him.

      "Welcome, Sir Abbot!" he said. "It is a good thing that you have come back. But, prompt as you are, if you fail to answer my three questions, you shall lose your head."

      "I am ready to answer them, O king!" said the shepherd.

      "Indeed,

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