ry is full
of the richest elements of romance. It is this noteworthy hero of old
England with whom we have now to deal.

No one can be sure where Hereward was born, though most probably the
county of Lincolnshire may claim the honor. We are told that he was heir
to the lordship of Bourne, in that county. Tradition--for we have not
yet reached the borders of fact--says that he was a wild and unruly
youth, disrespectful to the clergy, disobedient to his parents, and so
generally unmanageable that in the end his father banished him from his
home.

Little was the truculent lad troubled by this. He had in him the spirit
of a wanderer and outlaw, but was one fitted to make his mark wherever
his feet should fall. In Scotland, while still a boy, he killed,
single-handed, a great bear,--a feat highly considered in those days
when all battles with man and beast were hand to hand. Next we hear of
him in Cornwall, one of whose race of giants Hereward found reserved for
his prowess. This was a fellow of mighty limb and boastful tongue, vast
in strength and terrible in war, as his own tale ran. Hereward fought
him, and the giant ceased to boast. Cornwall had a giant the less. Next
he sought Ireland, and did yeoman service in the wars of that unquiet
island. Taking ship thence, he made his way to Flanders, where legend
credits him with wonderful deeds. Battle and bread were the nutriment of
his existence, the one as necessary to him as the other, and a journey
of a few hundreds of miles, with the hope of a hard fight at the end,
was to him but a holiday.

Such is the Hereward to whom tradition introduces us, an idol of popular
song and story, and doubtless a warrior of unwonted courage and skill,
agile and strong, ready for every toil and danger, and so keenly alert
and watchful that men called him the Wake. This vigorous and valiant man
was born to be the hero and champion of the English, in their final
struggle for freedom against their Norman foes.

A new passion entered Hereward's soul in Flanders, that of love. He met
and wooed there a fair lady, Torfrida by name, who became his wife. A
faithful helpmeet she proved, his good comrade in his wanderings, his
wise counseller in warfare, and ever a softening influence in the fierce
warrior's life. Hitherto the sword had been his mistress, his temper the
turbulent and hasty one of the dweller in camp. Henceforth he owed a
divided allegiance to love and the sword, and grew softer in