gratitude to the kind stepmother who had done so much to appease his wrath. She knew of a little French book that was a favorite of the queen’s, and this she translated into English and sent to her. The cover was embroidered in blue and silver, and there was a quaint little dedication saying that she knew nothing in it “was done as it should have been.” It is no wonder that the grateful child became a great favorite with her kind-hearted stepmother.

Henry was successful in France; England had been well governed by the queen during his absence; he was on good terms with all his family; and although there had been a visitation of the plague, his children were safe. It was probably at this happy time that a large picture was painted of Henry, his three children, and the mother of Edward. The king sits on a kind of dais with Jane Seymour beside him. He is gorgeous in scarlet and gold brocade, and his two daughters are almost equally dazzling in their crimson velvet and cloth of gold. The precious little prince stands at his father’s right hand, and the king’s arm is thrown around the child’s neck. Both king and prince wear velvet caps, each with a long white plume. Gold chains and rubies and pearls are everywhere.

Queen Katherine does not appear in the picture, but she had a strong hold on the daily lives of the royal family. She saw to it that so far as lay in her power the neglected elder daughter should have the position that belonged to her. Princess as she was, Mary never had after her mother’s divorce an allowance half large enough to do what was expected of her, but now she was helped in many ways by the thoughtful stepmother. The queen would send a handsome gown or a generous gift of money, or she would arrange to pension off some aged, helpless servant of Mary’s, and so lessen the demands upon the girl’s slender purse. She was little older than the princess, but she showed a motherly watchfulness of Mary’s interests.

No less thoughtful was she of the training of her younger stepchildren. It was the fashion for young people of rank to be highly educated, especially in the languages, and if half the reports of the knowledge acquired by the two children are true, they must have been wonderfully industrious students. One who knew them well declared that they called for their books as soon as it was light. First came the reading of the Scriptures, then breakfast, and after that the study of various languages. When the long hours of work were over, the little prince was allowed to exercise in the open air, while Elizabeth “betook herself to her lute or viol, and when wearied with these, employed her time in needle-work.” Four or five modern languages this industrious princess learned to speak and write. She had some knowledge of Greek, and she spoke Latin almost as easily as English. A little book in which she wrote her Italian exercises is still in existence. They are well written, but there are mistakes enough to show that even a princess does not learn a language without hard work.

Both children had a great admiration for Queen Katherine, and whatever she did was right in their eyes. Edward seems to have had as hard a time learning to write as any child of to-day, and he sent a letter to the queen about his troubles. “When I see your beautiful handwriting,” says the discouraged little boy, “I am sick of writing. But then I think how kind your nature is, and that whatever proceeds from a good mind and intention will be acceptable, and so I write you this letter.”

The gentle boy, not yet nine years old, was soon to be put forward to represent the king. Henry had grown so enormously stout that he could not climb the stairs. After a while he could no longer even walk about his room, and he had to be moved in a rolling chair. Commissioners from the king of France were coming to England to arrange terms of peace. The king ordered his son to take his place.

“Your Majesty,” reported the officer in whose charge the child had been, “truly, never was there a prince of such courtesy and amiability. His Grace rode on the charger most gallantly, and led the two thousand knights and nobles with as much of ease and stateliness of demeanor as if he had been forty years of age.”

“And did he speak as he was taught?” asked the king.

“Surely, your Majesty, and with such grace and sovereignty in his manner that men were affected even to tears.”

“And what said the admiral?”

“I verily believe, your Highness, that he would have caught up the prince’s Grace and clasped him to his breast had it not been for the dignity of his Grace’s manner and bearing. He put his arm about the neck of his Grace, but it was a kiss of affection and not of state that he gave.”

“And after that?”

“After the speech of welcome, my lord prince again took the head of the cavalcade. Never before the time of your Majesty have they been handled by such a leader. He led the French away from the Heath to meet your Highness’s gracious welcome at the palace.”

The boy was not spoiled by all this honor and praise, but went willingly away from the glories of the court to stay with his beloved sister Elizabeth. Less than a year were they together, and then it was thought best for them to be separated. Edward was but a lonely little child in spite of his stateliness when on the great charger, and he grieved so for his sister that she wrote to him suggesting that they write frequent letters to each other. The boy caught eagerly at the idea. “Nothing can now occur to me more grateful than your letters,” he wrote in the prim, stilted fashion of the day, and he added, “It is a comfort to my regret that I hope shortly to see you again if no accident intervenes.” He did see her again before many weeks had passed, for there was news to tell which the councilors wished both children to hear.

King Henry had been growing more and more feeble. For some time before his death, it was so difficult for him to sign his name that three men, acting together, were given the right to do it for him. Two made an impression of his signature with a dry stamp, and the third traced the letters with ink. Henry grew no less bitter in his enmity to all who opposed him, and one of his last acts was to order the execution of his aunt’s husband.

One winter day two men galloped swiftly over the road to the palace which was then the home of Edward.

“Inform his Highness that the Duke of Somerset and Sir Anthony Brown await his pleasure,” was the message brought to the prince. The Duke of Somerset was Edward’s mother’s brother, and he went eagerly to meet his guests.

“I rejoice that you bring me word of his Majesty,” said the boy. “Is it not yet his will that I should come to him?”

“Your Grace,” answered the Duke, “his Majesty sent no such message, but he would that you go with us to the home of her Grace, the Lady Elizabeth.” The prince did not question a command that was so in accordance with his wishes, and they set off on horseback.

When the children were together, the duke bowed low before the boy of ten years, his own nephew, and said:—

“Your Majesty, graciously permit your faithful servants to kiss your hand and to promise you their humblest obedience both now and ever. A grievous duty is it, indeed, to declare to you that our illustrious king, Henry VIII., no more governs this realm of England. There is comfort for his sorrowing subjects in the thought that he has left us so noble and gracious a prince to rule us in his stead.”

Edward had known nothing but kindness from