secretly meant a real battle, in which the
English should be defeated by superior force.

The King, however, nothing afraid, went
to the appointed place on the appointed day
with a thousand followers. When the Count
came with two thousand and attacked the
English in earnest, the English rushed at
them with such valour that the Count's men
and the Count's horses soon began to be
tumbled down all over the field. The Count
himself seized the King round the neck, but
the King tumbled him out of his saddle in
return for the compliment, and, jumping from
his own horse, and standing over him, beat
away at his iron armour like a blacksmith
hammering on his anvil. Even when the
Count owned himself defeated and offered his
sword, the King would not do him the honor
to take it, but made him yield it up to a
common soldier. There had been such fury
shown in this fight, that it was afterwards
called the little Battle of Chalons.

The English were very well disposed to be
proud of their King after these adventures;
so, when he landed at Dover in the year one
thousand two hundred and seventy-four (being
then thirty-six years old), and went on to
Westminster, where he and his good Queen
were crowned with great magnificence, splendid
rejoicings took place. For the
coronation-feast there were provided, among other
eatables, four hundred oxen, four hundred
sheep, four hundred and fifty pigs, eighteen
wild boars, three hundred flitches of bacon,
and twenty thousand fowls. The fountains
and conduits in the streets flowed with red and
white wine instead of water; the rich citizens
hung silks and cloths of the brightest colours
out of their windows to increase the beauty
of the show, and threw out gold and silver by
whole handfuls to make scrambles for the
crowd. In short, there was such eating and
drinking, such music and capering, such a
ringing of bells and tossing up of caps, such a
shouting, and singing, and revelling, as the
narrow overhanging streets of old London City
had not witnessed for many a long day. All
the people were merry except the Jews, who,
trembling within their houses, and scarcely
daring to peep out, began to foresee that they
would have to find the money for this
joviality sooner or later.

To dismiss this sad subject of the Jews for
the present, I am sorry to add that in this reign
they were most unmercifully pillaged. They
were hanged in great numbers, on accusations
of having clipped the King's coin— which all
kinds of people had done. They were heavily
taxed; they were disgracefully badged; they
were, on one day, thirteen years after the
coronation, taken up, with their wives and
children, and thrown into beastly prisons,
until they purchased their release by paying
to the King twelve thousand pounds.
Finally, every kind of property belonging to
them was seized by the King, except so little
as would defray the charge of their taking
themselves away into foreign countries. Many
years elapsed before the hope of gain induced
any of their race to return to England, where .
they had been treated so heartlessly and had
suffered so much.

If King Edward the First had been as bad
a king to Christians as he was to Jews, he
would have been bad indeed. But he was,
in general, a wise and great monarch, under
whom the country much improved. He had
no love for the Great Charter—few kings had,
through many many years—but he had high
qualities. The first bold object that he conceived
when he came home, was, to unite under one
Sovereign England, Scotland, and Wales; the
two last of which countries had each a little
king of its own, about whom the people were
always quarrelling and fighting, and making
a prodigious disturbance—a great deal more
than he was worth. In the course of King
Edward's reign he was engaged, besides, in a
war with France. To make these quarrels
clearer, we will separate their histories and
take them thus. Wales, first. France, second.
Scotland, third.

LLEWELLYN was the Prince of Wales. He
had been on the side of the Barons in the
reign of the stupid old King, but had
afterwards sworn allegiance to him. When King
Edward came to the throne, Llewellyn was
required to swear allegiance to him also;
which he refused to do. The King, being
crowned and in his own dominions, three
times more required Llewellyn to come and
do homage; and three times more Llewellyn
said he would rather not. He was going to
be married to ELEANOR DE MONTFORT, a
young lady of the family mentioned in the
last reign; and it chanced that this young
lady, coming from France with her youngest
brother, EMERIC, was taken by an English
ship, and was ordered by the English King
to be detained. Upon this, the quarrel came
to a head. The King went, with his fleet, to
the coast of Wales, where, so encompassing
Llewellyn, that he could only take refuge in
the bleak mountain region of Snowdon in
which no provisions could reach him, he was
soon starved into an apology, and into a treaty
of peace, and into paying the expenses of the
war. The King, however, forgave him some
of the hardest conditions of the treaty, and
consented to his marriage. And he now
thought he had reduced Wales to obedience.

But, the Welsh, although they were
naturally a gentle, quiet, pleasant people, who
liked to receive strangers in their cottages
among the mountains, and to set before them
with free hospitality whatever they had to
eat and drink, and to play to them on their
harps, and sing their native ballads to them,
were a people of great spirit when their
blood was up. Englishmen, after this affair,
began to be insolent in Wales, and to assume
the air of masters; and the Welsh pride
could not bear it. Moreover, they believed