n rolled over King and Queen, crushing them and their
resplendent court, and when it had passed a different type of men and
women governed France.

Only a few of the old nobility were left, and they had learned their
lesson. Lafayette and his wife were of that number. Lover of liberty as
he was, these great events could scarcely have surprised him. The
people had done much the same as had he when, a boy at Versailles, he
rebelled against the selfish court that trod down all opposition with a
heel of iron.

XI

Horatio Nelson

The Boy of the Channel Fleet: 1758-1805

It was a dark, rainy autumn afternoon, and the small boy, who was
trudging along the post-road that led to the English river town of
Chatham, was wet to the skin, and thoroughly tired into the bargain. He
was thin and pale, with big-searching eyes, and coal black hair that
hung tangled over his forehead. He had been traveling all day, and had
had only a roll to eat since early morning.

Sometimes he was tempted to stop and ask people he met how far it still
was to the town on the Medway, but he overcame the temptation, because
he knew that he could reach his destination by six o'clock, and that
thinking of the distance still to go would not help him.

Occasionally he would stop, fling his arms about his body for warmth,
and stamp his feet hard to drive away the chill. But his stops were not
frequent, because he was in a hurry to end his journey.

On such an autumn day night sets in early, and the road ahead was simply
a gray blur by the time the boy had reached the outskirts of the town.
But when he did see the first straggling houses he could not help giving
a little cry of satisfaction. He met a pedlar going the other way.

"Is this Chatham?" the boy asked, half fearing that the answer would be
"No."

"Yes, this here's Chatham."

"And where are the docks, the war-ship docks?" asked the boy.

"Keep straight on this road and you'll walk clean into the water, and
there's the ships," said the man.

Doubtless he wondered what the boy wanted of the war-ships, but the lad
gave him no chance to satisfy his curiosity. He was hurrying on as fast
as he could go.

Soon the houses grew more numerous and the post-road had become a street
heading through the heart of an old-fashioned town. The boy had never
been to Chatham before, but he did not stop to look at any of the
curious houses he passed. He saw a pasty-cook's window filled with buns
a