almost fancied that he could behold their bloom and smell their fragrant
breath.

Thus, in one way or another, the dark days of Edward's confinement
passed not unhappily. In due time his father returned; and the next
evening, when the family were assembled, he began a story.

"I must first observe, children," said he, "that some writers deny the
truth of the incident which I am about to relate to you. There
certainly is but little evidence in favor of it. Other respectable
writers, however, tell it for a fact; and, at all events, it is an
interesting story, and has an excellent moral."

So Mr. Temple proceeded to talk about the early days of


OLIVER CROMWELL.

[BORN 1599 DIED 1658.]

Not long after King James I. took the place of Queen Elizabeth on the
throne of England, there lived an English knight at a place called
Hinchinbrooke. His name was Sir Oliver Cromwell. He spent his life, I
suppose, pretty much like other English knights and squires in those
days, bunting hares and foxes and drinking large quantities of ale and
wine. The old house in which he dwelt had been occupied by his
ancestors before him for a good many years. In it there was a great
hall, hang round with coats of arms and helmets, cuirasses and swords,
which his forefathers had used in battle, and with horns of deer and
tails of foxes which they or Sir Oliver himself had killed in the chase.