that he could not produce the evidence of
the murder of the two sons of Edward IV., so as to settle this gay
young pretender; but he did not succeed in finding the remains, though
they were afterwards discovered under the staircase of the White Tower,
and buried in Westminster Abbey, where the floor is now paved with
epitaphs, and where economy and grief are better combined, perhaps, than
elsewhere in the world, the floor and tombstone being happily united,
thus, as it were, killing two birds with one stone.

But how sad it is to-day to contemplate the situation occupied by Henry,
forced thus to rummage the kingdom for the dust of two murdered princes,
that he might, by unearthing a most wicked crime, prevent the success of
a young pretender, and yet fearing to do so lest he might call the
attention of the police to the royal record of homicide, regicide,
fratricide, and germicide!

Most cruel of all this sad history, perhaps, was the execution of
Stanley, the king's best friend in the past, who had saved his life in
battle and crowned him at Bosworth. In an unguarded moment he had said
that were he sure the young man was as he claimed, King Edward's son,
he--Stanley--would not fight against him. For this purely unpartisan
remark he yielded up his noble life in 1495.

Warbeck for some time went about trying to organize cheap insurrections,
with poor success until he reached Scotland, where James IV. endorsed
him, and told him to have his luggage sent up to the castle. James also
presented his sister Catherine as a spouse to the giddy young scion of
the Flemish calico counter. James also assisted Perkin, his new
brother-in-law, in an invasion of England, which failed, after which the
pretender gave himself up. He was hanged amid great applause at Tyburn,
and the Earl of Warwick, with whom he had planned to escape, was
beheaded at Tower Hill. Thus, in 1499, perished the last of the
Plantagenets of the male kind.

Henry hated war, not because of its cruelty and horrors, but because it
was expensive. He was one of the most parsimonious of kings, and often
averted war in order to prevent the wear and tear on the cannon. He
managed to acquire two million pounds sterling from the reluctant
tax-payer, yet no monarch ever received such a universal consent when he
desired to pass away. If any regret was felt anywhere, it was so deftly
concealed that his death, to all appearance, gave general and complete
satisfaction.

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