That crook-souled Richard's ruffian crew,
Starting at every hollow gust that blew,
Through vaulted passage stole, and archway low,
Where shadows mocked the flickering taper's glow,
And e'en the noise their felon steps impart,
Struck nameless terror to each coward heart!

Chill silence reigned, unless some rippling wave
Of Thames, with placid noise, the fortress lave,
Or echo mark the sentry's measured tone,

Or haply, of some prisoned wretch, the groan
Pierces the guarded wall with half-distinguished moan.

Then, with averted look and panting breath,
The reckless ministers of death

Approach the sleeping pair. Unconscious they,
And undisturbed by guilty conscience, lay,

Till, by the suffocating pillow prest,

They changed their mortal for immortal rest.

How, on that night, did Richard sleep?
Ah! well for him might angels weep."

CHAPTER VIII.

THE TRIUMPHING OF THE WICKED IS SHORT."

UR first story now draws to a close. If it has a

OUR

melancholy ending, it is only what was to be expected from its title; for there are few, if any, of the stories of the Tower of London that end joyfully. Besides, having promised to write true stories, the termination could not be altered. If it had been a fanciful or imaginative tale, it would have been easy enough to have delivered the two young princes

from their enemies, and have brought them out of the Tower in triumph. But we must not deal in this way with history. The truth must be told, however mournfully it may read.

We left the usurper Richard on his royal progress through the country. Was he happy, do you think? Let us hear what the old chronicler,1 of whom you have been previously told, has to say about this.

"I have heard, by credible report," he writes, " from such as were secret with his chamberlains, that after this abominable deed done, he never had quiet in his mind, he never thought himself sure. When he went abroad, his eyes whirled about; his body was privily fenced (secretly armed); his hand was ever on his dagger; his countenance and manner like one always ready to strike again. He took ill rest at nights, and lay long, waking and musing. Sore wearied with care and watching, he rather slumbered than slept. Troubled with fearful dreams, sometimes he started up, leaped out of his bed, and ran about the chamber. So was his restless heart continually tossed and tumbled, with the tedious impression and stormy remembrance of this abominable deed."

It is true, when the usurping king returned to London, "the people shouted their admiration, and called him blessed. But the weight of blood pressed heavily on his soul; it cried against him to Heaven. He sought to obtain popularity by doing many generous and charitable acts; but pardon for bloodguiltiness cannot be purchased. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart,

1 Sir Thomas More.

O God, thou wilt not despise.' By such feelings as these, Richard was never influenced."

Richard the Third (for this was the Duke of Gloucester's title after he made himself king), reigned only two years and two months; and the greater part of that time was very troublous. At first, he strove to conceal what he had done to his nephews, and made believe that they were still alive in the Tower. But the deed could not be long hidden; and then a great number of people, who had never been satisfied with having Richard for king, determined that they would do all in their power to dethrone him, and put a worthier man in his place. So they fixed on the Earl of Richmond, who was a descendant of the celebrated John of Gaunt. The Earl had fought in the civil wars of Edward the Fourth's reign, and, his party being defeated, he had fled into France, after passing through many perilous adventures. Him, the friends of the poor murdered young princes invited over to England, to fight for the crown, which he was well pleased to do, when he learned that there was a strong party in the country ready to join him and fight for him. But before this trouble came, a domestic sorrow, which seemed like a retributive stroke of Providence, reached the usurper. This was the death of his own son, whom he had made Prince of Wales; and of whom he was both fond and proud. "In two short months, this youth, who was about the age of the murdered princes, was attacked with illness, and expired." It is said that Richard's grief for this bereavement was very great. But he had not much time to indulge in sorrow.

'In the beginning of 1485, it was evident that the Earl of Richmond intended the invasion of England. The number of his supporters gradually increased, while the popular feelings against Richard became

RICHARD III., QUEEN ANNE, AND PRINCE EDWARD, FROM AN OLD DRAWING.

more marked. Still, no immediate danger appeared. The usurper was well prepared to resist an invader; while every discontented noble that passed to France, lessened the number of those likely to make insurrections at home.

"The events which crowd upon each other during the reign of Richard, show, in a striking manner, how God, in His providence, overrules the designs of wicked men, and frustrates their deep-laid plots. We have seen that the murder of the young princes was