There were four children at the big second-story window that looked out over the broad avenue where the historical pageant was to pass; four children in very high spirits. Of course they were excited and happy; it was a wonderful place for seeing, and it was a wonderful parade that they were to watch—a celebration of the ending of the great World's War. The procession was to take the form of a series of groups of figures representing great persons from the history of the five important nations that had been allies in the struggle. Alfred and Betty and Francis and Dick had been talking for days about the great event. They were sure that they would enjoy it, for though Alfred, the oldest, was not thirteen yet, and Dick, the baby, was but seven, they all thought they knew something about history. And if they weren't able to recognize all the characters in the pageant, they need only ask Aunt Eleanor, who sat with them in the group at the window.

From far up the street came the sound of a band, and all the watchers stood on tiptoe or craned their necks to catch the first glimpse of the marching lines. It was a regimental band, with the colors carried proudly. How everyone cheered for the lines of khaki soldiers who followed next! Then noisy enthusiasm gave place to eager and interested questions about the first historical group. And nobody in all the watching crowd had more questions to ask than our windowful of children.

The center of the strangely costumed company was a blonde, bearded, kingly figure, wearing a crown of gold, a coat of mail, and a long, flowing cloak. One hand was on the jeweled hilt of his sword; the other clasped to his breast a parchment-bound book. Behind him were two attendants. Aunt Eleanor, watching her charges with as much interest as they watched the street, saw that they looked puzzled, though Alfred was trying to pretend that he knew the name of the king.

"You ought to feel honored, Alfred," said Aunt Eleanor. "That splendid looking Englishman has the same name as you."

"Of course," said the boy, pretending that he had understood all the time. "It's Alfred the Great. He," turning loftily to the younger children, who couldn't be expected to know so much, "was the first really important king of England. He was a great fighter, and finally conquered all his enemies. But once he had to run away, after a battle, and hide in a peasant's hut in disguise. The woman there didn't know who he was, and she went away and left him to watch some cakes that were on the fire baking. He was so busy thinking about how to get his kingdom back that he let them burn, and when she came back she scolded him."

"Those queer round things that the other man is carrying on that wooden tray must be the cakes," exclaimed Betty.

"Yes," said their aunt. "And do you see the musician with the harp? That is to remind us that King Alfred was fond of music, and did all he could to help it flourish. He was more than just a fighter; he wanted his people to learn all they could, so he started schools, and he founded Oxford College, the oldest college in England. Don't you see the book in his hand to show that he was fond of reading? It was very unusual in those days, a thousand years ago, for even a king so much as to know how to read. But right after him in the procession is another warrior king who loved learning and music and all the arts of peace."

And sure enough, as King Alfred of England passed out of sight, there followed another kingly figure, very tall and clad all in iron. Helmet, shield, gloves, boots—all were iron, and the wearer was terrible to look at, so strong and merciless he seemed. Behind him came a group of horsemen carrying iron spears with glittering points and with gay banners fluttering from their shafts.

"Well," said Betty, "he may have loved peace, but he doesn't look it. Who is he, anyway?"

"He represents the first great king of France, Charlemagne, a name that means Charles the Great. He lived at about the same time with Alfred. He was a great conqueror and overcame all his neighbors. He even led a huge army across the Alps and conquered the northern part of Italy. There he had himself crowned with a famous Iron Crown that was worn by the king of that country. But when he was not fighting he was building beautiful palaces and chapels, and encouraging all the learned men of the country."

"There seem to be a lot of soldiers in this parade," said nine-year-old Francis, "Here comes another. Who's he?"

"He must be a Crusader," said Betty, "for he has a red cross on his white cloak, and armor underneath it."

"He's a king, too," said little Dick. "He's got a crown on. What's a Crusader, Auntie? And is he one?"

"The Crusaders lived about three hundred years later than Alfred and Charlemagne. In that time the Turks—yes, the same kind of Turks whom you have heard about as persecuting the poor little Armenian children—had come into possession of the Holy Land in Palestine. All the Christian countries wanted to drive them out, so that heathen might not be in possession of Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulcher. So from France and Italy and Germany and England great armies went out to fight against the Saracens, as the Turks in Palestine were then called. And they wore red crosses on their cloaks to show that they were going on a holy war."

"Did they get the land back?" asked Francis.

"Why, no, silly," cried Alfred. "Don't you remember just last year General Allenby conquered Jerusalem, in the big war? The Turks had been there all that time. But wasn't that Crusader," nodding toward the rider disappearing in the distance, "somebody special?"

"Yes, indeed. You aren't the only boy here that has a king's name. This was a king with the same name as Dick—Richard of England, whom his people loved to call the Lion Hearted, because he was so brave. I could tell by the banner with the lion on it that floated above his head. There are lots of fine stories about King Richard. One tells how he was captured by an enemy on the way home from one of the Crusades and kept shut up in a tower for a year; and how he was found and rescued by a friend of his who was a sweet singer, and who went about singing a little song that the king loved, until at last he heard the king's voice sing in answer to him from the tower window. Then there's a story of how he came back to England in disguise, and kept his wicked brother John from stealing his throne. Some day you must read Sir Walter Scott's famous novel, 'Ivanhoe,' which tells all about the adventures of Richard in disguise."

A convenient gap in the procession had given Aunt Eleanor time to tell the children this much about King Richard; but now another group, a very soberly dressed company, too, claimed their attention. The central figure was not a king in armor this time, but a grave, determined looking man clad in black velvet, with a deep lace collar and a wide black hat and feather. The children at once demanded his name.

"I must look at my program to find out who he is," said their aunt. "Oh, yes; William of Orange. Both he and his little country, Holland, have a wonderful story. Five hundred years ago the lands that are now Belgium and Holland belonged to Spain. As time went on the Spanish king, Philip, oppressed them more and more cruelly, and wouldn't let them have any freedom at all, either in politics or religion. But they were a liberty-loving people, and toward the end of the sixteenth century they rose in rebellion against Spain. This stern-looking Hollander was their greatest leader. He was called William the Silent, because of an event early in his career. One day the French king, who was in league with Spain, and who thought Prince William was in sympathy with their side, betrayed to him all the details of a secret plot. William was filled with horror and very angry, but he kept perfectly still, and didn't even show by the movement of an eyelash that he was anything but friendly and interested. He was called 'silent', you see, not because he didn't talk much, but because he could keep a secret."

"And was that when Holland and Belgium got to be independent countries? And why aren't they all one country, then?"

"Oh, the part that is Holland won its independence then, though poor William was murdered before the fight was finished. It was one of the earliest of European republics. But the part that is Belgium came to terms with Spain after William's death, and wasn't a separate country till long after. You see, the Holland part was made up of people of the Protestant religion, while the Belgian part, like Spain, was Catholic."

"I suppose that's why he's in this procession, because when he lived he really belonged to Belgium as well as to Holland," said Alfred thoughtfully.

"Oh!" cried Betty, clapping her hands, "I know who that next lot are! The lady in the ruff, with the little jeweled band in her hair, must be Queen Elizabeth, and those are her courtiers. Now every one of us has a namesake in the pageant, except Francis."

"If I'm not mistaken," said her aunt, "Francis has a namesake in this very group. Yes, surely—do you see the man with the pointed beard and the model of a ship in his hand? That is Sir Francis Drake, the great seaman. Over and over his little ship went in chase of the Spaniards, who were England's greatest enemies at this time. Elizabeth ruled at the same time when the Dutch, too, were fighting Spain. There was nothing too daring or dangerous for Drake to attempt. He was the first Englishman to sail around the world, a voyage which took more than two years. Once he sailed right into a Spanish harbor and burned all the Spanish ships there, which were being made ready for an attack on England. And he and his friends, bold adventurers like himself, laid the foundation of the power of England on the sea."

"I suppose the man with the red velvet cloak is Raleigh, and that's the cloak he spread down for Elizabeth to walk on."

"Yes. And do you see that kind, merry-looking man in black, with the simple white collar, carrying an actor's mask in his hand? That must be Shakespeare, the greatest writer of plays that ever lived. And I believe the man beside him, holding a great roll of manuscript and a quill pen, is Spenser, the poet who wrote a wonderful book called the 'Faerie Queen' in honor of Queen Elizabeth."

"We've had somebody from France and Belgium and England," said Betty. "I wonder if there won't be an American pretty soon?"

"There couldn't have been an American yet, stupid," Alfred informed her, "because there weren't any people in our part of America in Queen Elizabeth's time."

"Oh, so there weren't. There comes a soldier with an Indian chief and an Indian girl close behind him—he must be American, or the Indians wouldn't be there."

"Guess he's John Smith," spoke up Francis, "'cause I know he had his life saved by Pocahontas—that's the Indian girl. But I don't know what else he did."

"Oh, he was the leader of the first colony to be settled by the English in this country. What colony was it, Alfred? You can tell, surely."

"Of course, Jamestown, in Virginia. That was why the Indians got mad at him, because the white men were taking their lands away."

A burst of specially enthusiastic cheering arose from the street. The reason for it was the approach of a kindly-faced gentleman in dark gray coat and knee-breeches, with silver shoe-buckles and broad-brimmed Quaker hat. It was William Penn, of course, looking for all the world like the statue on the high City Hall tower. There was no need for Aunt Eleanor to give any information about him, for these were Philadelphia children, who knew and loved the founder of the "green country town" that had grown to be so large a city. Nor was there any need to explain about the next figure to arrive, a stately general on horseback, in white wig, cocked hat, and Revolutionary uniform of blue and buff. Behind him, in an old-fashioned carriage, rode Betsy Ross, holding the newly adopted Stars and Stripes, at which the men in the crowd doffed their hats.

But the next figure puzzled our little group of children. It was a very short man, stockily built, yet full of dignity. He, too, wore a cocked hat, and a plain uniform. He walked with head bent forward and hands clasped behind him, and his piercing black eyes looked at the ground. The children could not guess who he was, so Aunt Eleanor had to tell them.

"That is the great French conquerer Napoleon Bonaparte. He began life as an ordinary citizen, and won his way to the very top by his wonderful military genius. He won so many battles in command of the French armies, after the French Revolution at the end of the eighteenth century, that the people chose him to be consul, a position something like that of the president of a republic. Then he loved power so that he got control of the government and had himself made emperor, so that France wasn't a republic any more. After that he set out to conquer all of Europe, and he nearly succeeded. But one winter he went to Russia, and the cold and snow almost entirely destroyed his army; and he never could succeed in beating England. It was the great English general, the Duke of Wellington, who finally crushed Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo—you've heard of that? Well, after that the fallen Emperor was sent away to a little island, St. Helena, that belonged to England, and there he was kept a prisoner till the end of his life."

"He was something like the German Kaiser in the World's War, wasn't he?" said Alfred. "He wanted to conquer all Europe—and the United States, too."

"Yes, you'll learn that every once in so often history repeats itself. But we'll hope that the Kaiser's effort to conquer the world will be the last of such things, and that such a war may never be repeated."

"Oh, who is that rough looking man in the red flannel shirt?" cried Betty.

"That very red shirt tells me who he is," said her aunt. "Have you been wondering when we were going to have one of the heroes of Italy? Well, this is an Italian patriot named Garibaldi. About sixty years ago, when Italy was struggling to get free from Austria, and to be an independent nation, Garibaldi gathered together as many brave soldiers as he could, in the southern part of the country, and they marched to the help of their countrymen in a time of very great need. As a part of their uniform they wore red shirts. But one of the most interesting things about Garibaldi is that when his country wanted to give him a high position, he said he would rather go back to the farm he had bought for himself, and live his life out as a plain, ordinary man."

Little Dick had been keeping very still and listening, for all the people in the parade had been those that he never had heard of before. But suddenly he jumped to his feet in excitement. He, like every other child in the crowd, knew who was that tall, awkward, homely person in the long black frock coat and the high silk hat. There could be no mistaking that kind, sad face, with the patient, farseeing eyes. Behind the great president rode two soldierly figures—General Grant in his blue uniform, and General Lee in the gray, on his beloved white horse, Traveller. Nor could there be any mistaking of the energetic figure in hunting dress that followed him, whose face wore a smile that could not be spoiled by the heavy eyeglasses that were so familiar a part of a well-known countenance.

"Teddy," cheered the crowd, with the enthusiasm that always is stirred by true, generous manliness.

The afternoon was growing late. One group remained, with which the procession was to close. On horseback rode a tall, soldierly figure, dressed in khaki, with an officer's hat bearing royal insignia, and with his breast covered with medals. A pair of keen blue eyes smiled out of a clear-cut, earnest face. Behind him, in an automobile, rode a thin, worn old man in the scarlet robe and close scarlet cap of a cardinal.

"I need not tell you who they are," said Aunt Eleanor. "They stand to us for the little country that in 1914 saved the world by sacrificing herself. King Albert of Belgium led his own armies into battle; his queen, Elizabeth, nursed the wounded in the hospitals; and Cardinal Mercier stayed with his people to cheer and comfort them."

"I think they are the greatest heroes of all," said Betty softly.

"Any man is a hero, dear," said her aunt, "who spends his life for the help and safety of his people, not thinking what it costs himself."

Questions

1. Make a list of the heroes whom you can remember in the procession.

2. Was there any one of them whom you did not know about before?

3. Which one would you like to read more about?

4. Do you know any facts about any of these heroes that are not told in this story? If so, write a title for the story you can tell, and be ready to tell it to your classmates.

5. Do you know the name of any hero whom you would have added to those in the procession?

6. Some of the figures are not mentioned by name. Give the names of any of these you remember.