tutor. “But I pray you to spare him, for he is too young to do hurt to thee or thy cause.”

“He is a son of York, and he shall die!” exclaimed Lord Clifford, plunging his dagger into the heart of the hapless boy, who fell dead at his feet.

It was in consequence of this wanton act of cruelty, and of the numbers he slew at the battle of Wakefield with his own hand, that he was thenceforth called “the butcher,” a terrible distinction, which will cling to his memory for ever.

Lady Clifford lamented sadly over the fate of poor Rutland, for she would have given all the wealth she had in the world, rather than her lord should have been guilty of such a wicked deed; and when she looked at her dear boy Henry, she wondered that the thought of his own son should not have softened a father’s heart, and prevented him from destroying an innocent youth, even though he was the son of an enemy.

One day, soon after this news was brought, there came to the castle one of those wandering minstrels who were in the habit of going about the country with their harps, and were sure to find a welcome at the mansions of the great, where, in return for a night’s lodging and entertainment, they would amuse the company with their songs and music. Lady Clifford never went down to the great hall when her lord was away, but confined herself to her own private apartments with her female attendants and her children, but she readily gave permission for the domestics to admit the minstrel for their own amusement, and right glad they were of this indulgence, as they had spent but a dull Christmas.

“May we not go down, dear mother, to hear the minstrel play and sing?” said Henry.

“Yes, you and Richard may go for awhile if you wish it,” replied Lady Margaret; and, sending for the old seneschal or steward of the castle, she bade him take charge of the boys while they listened to the harper’s songs. There were not many people in the castle now, but all that were there assembled in the hall to make merry with the new comer, except Lady Clifford herself, and the little Lady Elizabeth. The minstrel sang a long ballad all about the warlike achievements of the De Cliffords in former times, filling up the pauses with the animated strains of his harp, and when the song was done, and the servants were preparing to dance, the boys returned to their mother, highly delighted with what they had heard.

The next morning the seneschal came to his mistress and told her that the 

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