with chains, and wasting with grief, shame, and apprehension; and they were deeply moved with his tears and entreaties. The scene was heart-rending; and it appears that they could not have executed their horrible mission, even if Hubert de Burgh, the warden of the castle, had not interposed his authority, and refused to allow the instructions to be complied with, unless in presence of the King. However, in order to dispirit the captive Prince's adherents, he caused bells to be tolled all over Normandy to apprise the inhabitants that Arthur of Britanny was no more.

On learning that his orders had not been executed, John became furious with disappointment, and requested William de Bray, one of his household, to murder Arthur. "I am a gentleman, and not an executioner," answered De Bray, with becoming scorn. Finding that others shrank from the atrocity, John's evil genius got the better of him, and he resolved upon perpetrating the deed of darkness with his own hand.

Having formed this determination, the tyrant, il the spring of 1203, repaired to Rouen, and on the 3rd of April prepared for the cruel deed. To suppress scruples, and silence the murmurs of conscience, he ate ravenously and drank copiously. He then steeled himself against repentance, and descended to the dungeon. The boy, terror-struck, gazed on his uncle with anxious amaze, and melted into tears. The near prospect of being launched into eternity appalled his spirit. He threw himself on his knees and begged for mercy.

"Oh, mine uncle," he exclaimed, "spare your brother's son; spare your nephew; spare your race!" John made no reply, but imbrued his hands in his young kinsman's blood; and, having fastened heavy stones to the bleeding corpse, caused it to be thrown into the Seine. The whole affair was managed with such secrecy that the fate of the unhappy Prince might long have remained in obscurity but for a simple occurrence.

A fisherman of Rouen, plying his nets in the river, was surprised to drag ashore the body of a boy of sixteen. Whether or not he had his suspicions, he took the corpse to the monks of Bec, who, recognising it as that of Arthur of Britanny, had it interred in the Priory of Notre Dame de Pré, which belonged to their wealthy religious house. The corpse was buried with the utmost secrecy; for, in the eyes of the blood-stained tyrant, even this act of reverence towards his nephew would have appeared a crime to be punished.

Among those who fell into the power of King John at this period was Eleanor, the orphan sister of Arthur, variously known as "La Brette," "The Damsel," "The Pearl," and "The Fair Maid of Britanny." In other days she had been contracted by Cœur de Lion to the son of Leopold, the perfidious Duke of Austria; and, in the year 1194, she had actually been sent into Germany. Before reaching her destination Eleanor was freed from her contract by Leopold's death, and she was soon after betrothed to a French prince.

But no royal palace was this fair

He threw himself on his knees and begged for mercy. "Oh, mine uncle,"

he exclaimed, "spare your brother's son."-p. 58.

executed the judgment of the feudal court by depriving him of all the territory that his father Henry had acquired in France, and expelling him with ignominy from continental Europe.

Nor did the cruel usurper's misfortunes terminate here. The shade of his murdered victim followed him across the Channel, and constantly pursued his steps. A strange fatality urged him on to the accomplishment of his ruin. He was always threatening the powerful, but never dared to strike any but the helpless. The feelings of hatred and revenge that had eaten into his heart prompted him to the most vicious and tyrannical courses. At length, after being forced by the barons of England to sign the Great Charter, and compelled, by the threats of the Pope, to resign the English crown to the legate, he died in agony, in bitterness, and in despair, at the Abbey of Swinehead.

DAVID STUART,

DUKE OF ROTHSAY.

A YOUTH in his teens, with features generally recognised as handsome, and a form not tall but seemly and elegant, arrayed in rich garments, worn with that slovenly negligence not seldom distinguishing those pursuing a career of dissipation-such is the picture, by a mighty master, of that Scottish prince of the House of Stuart who, after his ill-starred marriage had involved two kingdoms in war, was starved to death by an unscrupulous uncle and a fierce father-in-law in the prison-vaults of Falkland.

Froissart states that, towards the close of the fourteenth century, hardly any kingdom of Europe was so wretched as that to which Rothsay was born heir. The wars with England had impoverished Scotland to such a degree, that when the Admiral of France arrived with an army to assist the inhabitants against their richer and more powerful neighbours, the knights and gentlemen, accustomed from boyhood to fine houses, splendid chambers, and soft beds, no sooner perceived the state of matters than they laughed in his