But, as necessity is called the “mother of invention,” weapons, in time, were made that iron-cased warriors feared even more than mace or battle-ax. The archer’s “cloth-yard shaft” might not be able to pierce the Milan armor, but a steel-headed “bolt” or “quarrel,” sped with terrific force from the notch of a crossbow, has brought many a mail-clad knight to grief, as William, the Red King of England, and Richard, called the Lion-heart, found to their cost. For five centuries, the crossbow, or arbalist, was a favorite weapon in war and in the chase, as Mr. Maurice Thompson has already told you in his interesting “Story of the Arbalist.”[1] And many a boy of those olden days was taught either by the armorer of his father’s castle, or by that same knightly father, the baron and lord of the manor, how to string the bow and how to lay the bolt. [Illustration: “MANY A BOY WAS TAUGHT HOW TO STRING THE BOW AND HOW TO LAY THE BOLT.”] The battle of Waterloo, in which the iron-sheathed cuirassiers of Napoleon went down in defeat before the soldiers of Wellington, was the death-blow to defensive armor. [Illustration: LANCES, MACES, AND BATTLE-AXES.] As gunpowder came into use in battle, and science improved the methods of warfare, the iron coats were found to be of little avail as a protection against shot and shell. Men grew braver as they dropped the heavy plates behind which they had hidden for centuries. And now they march unprotected by iron clothes, depending for victory upon their excellent drill and discipline and upon the deadly fire-arms which science has developed and perfected. But, better yet, more helpful than casque or cuirass, lance or bill or battle-ax, more effective even than the ponderous Krupp cannon, the deadly Gatling gun, or the swift-loading Martini rifle, is the spirit of justice, of kindly courtesy, and of real courage, which now settles quarrels between men and nations. Argument, arbitration, and mutual concession are doing more to civilize the world than all the cruel war-weapons, and these kindlier methods render more and more useless the arms and armor of the long ago, which sprang, not from the friendships, but from the hatreds and passions of men. [Illustration] But breastplate, helm, and sword, and all the knightly accouterments have served their purpose in the world’s advancement, and as they look down at us from the walls of library or museum could tell us many a story of daring and of valor in “the brave days of old.” [1] See ST. NICHOLAS for September, 1882. NED’S BUTTERCUP. BY BESSIE CHANDLER. Ned picked in the garden, one morning bright, A buttercup, fresh and yellow; And his warm, chubby fingers held it tight, For it pleased the little fellow. But soon it drooped its satiny head, (Such a sorry trick to serve us!) “Oh, give it some water, Mamma!” cried Ned; “I think it is getting _nervous_!” [Illustration: HER PICTURE.] BY ANNA M. PRATT.