"While Mr. White was here, mama," said Edward, "I formed our first picture."
"I noticed," remarked his aunt, "that you were the quietest of the party, and it is now accounted for. By exercising your mind, you ensured polite behaviour. We are all quite ready to listen."
"Although I wish to represent a field of battle, I shall only call your attention to one part of it. A single, armed man is fighting desperately for his life; his helmet is so beaten by the blows it has received, that all shape is lost. He seems to desire to aim his chief fury at a person apparently of some importance, who shews no disposition to meet the attack: his followers, however, are less scrupulous, and he is killed on the banks of a brook which long remained stained with his blood."
"What was your hero like, Edward?"
"There seems," he replied, "a difference of opinion on that point. Some historians say that although his features were homely, the expression was princely and sensible; others inform us, that he was deformed, and unpleasing in every way."
The next question was, "Do most of them agree in saying that he had one shoulder higher than the other, and was sometimes called Crookback?"
"Yes. But who can tell me what he exclaimed as he rushed on to the Earl of Richmond?"
"Treason! Treason! Treason!" readily cried Willie.
"As you are in such a hurry to answer, Willie, you shall entertain us next," said his mother.
"Certainly, mama, I have a story quite ready; and you must all fancy you see a sacred edifice, which has been the scene of many of our interesting historical annals. We are on the outside, and against its holy walls we see a scaffold erected, but there is no execution to be perpetrated. A youth of singularly dignified and fascinating appearance stands with a paper in his hand, from which he reads a declaration to the crowds, who have flocked from all quarters."