met at Westminster. Everything was in readiness. Thirty-six
barrels of gunpowder (not fifty-two as the Hampshire rhyme has it) were
stored beneath the Parliament House. And Guido Fawkes, a daring
adventurer, was in waiting in the cellar to set a light to them, and
blow up King, Prince, and Parliament. But at the last moment, in spite
of all their well-laid plans, in spite of all their wonderful secrecy,
the plot leaked out. Lord Monteagle, a Roman Catholic Peer, received a
mysterious warning from Tresham, one of the conspirators, whose courage
failed him. Monteagle instantly told the Earl of Salisbury and the king.
At midnight on the eve of the fifth, the cellars under the Parliament
House were searched. There was Guido Fawkes, with touchwood and matches
upon him, only waiting for the signal which was to be given him in a few
hours. He was seized, dragged before the king and consigned to the
Tower. The great heap of wood and coals in the cellar was torn down, and
the barrels of gunpowder found beneath it. The conspirators fled. All
Protestant England was roused to a frenzy of horror and dread at the
discovery of such a fearful crime. The guilty men were chased from
county to county, till at last all of them were either killed fighting,
or captured and brought next year to the block. And thus ended the
Gunpowder Plot. But its memory is still kept alive in England by the
yearly bonfires and fireworks and Guy Fawkes processions of the Fifth of
November.

This escape from a sudden and dreadful death, affected Prince Henry
deeply. He was a boy of strong religious feelings. And from this time he
never suffered any business to keep him from hearing a sermon every
Tuesday, which was the day of the week on which the Gunpowder Plot was
to have been carried out. But hearing of sermons was not the only sign
of Prince Henry's piety. He was diligent in his own private prayers,
generally going apart three times a day to pray quietly by himself. He
was most careful too of the good behavior of his household. And above
all things he had a horror of profane swearing. At his three palaces,
St. James's in London, Richmond, and Nonsuch, he ordered boxes to be
kept for the fines he exacted from all those who used bad words; and
this money was given to the poor.

There is a story told by Coke, the historian, how that the prince was
once hunting a stag. The stag was spent, and crossing a road fell in
with a butcher and his dog. The dog killed