us were these pretty little innocents murdered; and as no one knew of
their death, so no one sought to give them burial.

The wicked uncle, supposing they had been killed as he desired, told all
who asked after them an artful tale of their having died in London of
the smallpox, and accordingly took possession openly of their fortune.

But all this did him very little service, for soon after his wife died;
and being very unhappy, and always thinking too that he saw the bleeding
innocents before his eyes, he neglected all his business; so that,
instead of growing richer, he every day grew poorer. His two sons, also,
who had embarked for a foreign land, were both drowned at sea, and he
became completely miserable.

When things had gone on in this manner for years, the ruffian who took
pity on the children committed another robbery in the wood, and, being
pursued by some men, he was laid hold of and brought to prison, and soon
after was tried at the assizes, and found guilty--so that he was
condemned to be hanged for the crime.

As soon as he found what his unhappy end must be, he sent for the keeper
of the prison, and confessed to him all the crimes he had been guilty of
in his whole life, and thus declared the story of the pretty innocents,
telling him at the same time in what part of the wood he had left them
to starve.

The news of the discovery he had made soon reached the uncle's ears,
who, being already broken-hearted by misfortunes that had befallen him,
and unable to bear the load of public shame that could not but await
him, lay down upon his bed and died that very day.

No sooner were the tidings of the fate of the two children made public
than proper persons were sent to search the wood; when, after many
fruitless endeavours, the pretty babes were at length found outstretched
in each other's arms, with William's arm round the neck of Jane, his
face turned close to her's, and his frock pulled over her body. They
were covered all over with leaves, which in all that time never
withered; and on a bush near this cold grave a Robin-Redbreast watched
and chirped--so that many gentle hearts still think that pretty bird did
bring the leaves which made their grave.

JACK THE GIANT KILLER.

In the reign of King Arthur, near the Land's End of England, in the
County of Cornwall, there lived a wealthy farmer, who had one only son,
commonly known by the name of Jack. He was brisk, and of a lively ready
wit; so