True Stories of Wonderful Deeds | Page 5

teaching the
natives. Then he urged his countrymen to send others after him to settle
in this fair country, to help the natives to learn useful trades, and to

drive away the slave-merchants.
For some years he was quite alone, with his black servants, in the midst
of this wild land. His friends grew anxious, and sent Mr. Stanley,
another great traveller, to look for him. Stanley marched for nearly a
year before he found Livingstone. The old explorer was white and worn
with sickness and hardship, and he was overjoyed to clasp once more
the hand of a white man, and to hear again the English tongue. But he
would not return to England. He said his work was not yet done, and he
set out once more on his travels. It was his last journey. One morning
his servants found him dead upon his bed. Since that time much has
been done to make Central Africa a prosperous land. Other white men
have followed where Livingstone led, and wherever they have settled,
the wicked slave-trade has been stopped.
[Illustration: THE MEETING OF STANLEY AND LIVINGSTONE]

=The Battle of Waterloo=
Fields of waving corn, green woods, fruitful orchards, a pretty
farmhouse and a few cottages--such was the plain of Waterloo. And
there, on a summer Sunday, nearly a hundred years ago, was fought a
famous battle, in which the British troops under the Duke of
Wellington beat the French army, and broke the power of the great
Napoleon for ever.
"We have them," cried Napoleon as he saw the British drawn up before
him. He thought it would be easy to destroy this army, so much smaller
than his own, before their friends the Prussians, who were on the way
to help them, came up. But he was mistaken. Wellington had placed his
foot-soldiers in squares, and though the French horsemen, then the
finest soldiers in the world, charged again and again, these little clumps
of brave men stood fast. On his favourite horse "Copenhagen",
Wellington rode to and fro cheering his men. "Stand firm, my lads,"
cried he. "What will they say to this in England?"

Not till evening, when the Prussians came, would he allow them to
charge the French in their turn. Then, waving his cocked hat over his
head, he gave the order, "The whole line will advance", and the
impatient troops dashed forward. The French bravely tried to stand
against this terrific charge, but they were beaten back, and the battle of
Waterloo was ended.
Sixty thousand men lay dead or wounded under the fruit-trees, and
among the trampled corn and grass at the end of that terrible day.
[Illustration: BRITISH SOLDIERS AT THE BATTLE OF
WATERLOO]
[Illustration: THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE]

=The Charge of the Light Brigade=
Forward the Light!
Such was the order given during a great battle to the leader of a band of
six hundred British soldiers. Forward! And there in front was a line of
cannon ready to shoot them down as they came, while on the hills on
either side of the valley were the guns and riflemen of the Russians.
"Surely someone has blundered! My men are sent to certain death,"
thought the leader of the Light Brigade.
"Forward! Attack!"
The order was repeated, and with the obedience of well-trained soldiers
the Brigade started.
"Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do
and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred."
On every side thundered the enemy's guns, and shot and shell fell thick
and fast, but on through all rode the brave horsemen, on till they

reached the cannon at the end of the valley. The smoke of the enemy's
fire closed round and hid them from their watching comrades, but now
and again the scarlet lines could be seen cutting down those who tried
to stop their charge.
"Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the
gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd."
[Illustration: AFTERMATH OF BATTLE°]
And then only, when the strange order had been obeyed, when their
duty had been nobly done in the face of death, did the Light
Brigade--all that was left of it--turn to ride back. Alas! there were not
then six hundred. Barely two hundred brave men, wounded, and
blackened by smoke and powder, reached the British camp. The rest of
the noble band lay dead or dying in the valley of Death.
"When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the
world wonder'd. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light
Brigade, Noble six hundred!"

=The Coronation of King Edward VII=
Never had a country a more popular king than King Edward VII, nor a
more