Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"But years may pass away before that happy day, if it ever should come," replied the weeping boy; "and I shall be altered in stature and in features; the tones of my voice will have become strange to your ears, my mother! Toil and sorrow will have set their hard marks upon my brow. These garments, now so brightly stained with figures that denote my royal birth and princely station, will be worn bare, or exchanged for the sheep-skin vest of indigence. How, then, will you know that I am indeed your son, should I ever present myself before you cleansed of this dreadful leprosy?"

"My son," replied the queen, taking a royal ring of carved agate from her finger, and placing it on a stand before him, for so great was the terror of contagion from those afflicted with leprosy, that even the affectionate mother of Bladud avoided the touch of her child,--"this ring was wrought by the master-hand of a Druid, a skillful worker in precious stones, within the sacred circle of Stonehenge. It was placed upon my finger before the mystic altar, when I became the wife of the king, your father, and was saluted by the Arch-Druid as Queen of Britain. In the whole world, there is not another like unto it; and, should you bring it back to me, by that token shall I know you to be my son, even though the lapse of thrice ten years shall have passed away, and the golden locks of my princely boy shall be darkened with toil and time, and no longer wave over a smooth, unfurrowed brow."

II.

The unfortunate Bladud, having carefully suspended his mother's ring about his neck, bade her a tearful farewell, and slowly and sorrowfully pursued his lonely way across the hills and downs of that part of England which is now called Somersetshire.

Evening was closing in before Bladud met with a single creature to show him the slightest compassion. At length, he was so fortunate as to encounter a shepherd-boy, who appeared in scarcely less distress than himself; for one of the sheep belonging to his flock had fallen into a ditch, the sides of which were so steep that he was unable to pull it out without assistance.

"Stranger," said he, addressing the outcast prince, "if ever you hope to obtain pity from others, I beseech you to lend me your aid, or I shall be severely punished by my master, for suffering this sheep to fall into the ditch."

Bladud required no second entreaty, but hastily divesting himself of his princely garments, assisted the boy in extricating the sheep from the water. The grateful youth bestowed upon him, in return, a share of his coarse supper of oaten cakes. Bladud, who had not broken his fast since the morning, ate this with greater relish than he had often felt for the dainties of which he had been accustomed to partake at his father's board.

It was a fine and lovely evening; the birds were singing their evening song; and a delicious fragrance was diffused from the purple heath and the blooming wild flowers. The sheep gathered round their youthful keeper; and he took up a rustic pipe, made from the reeds that overhung the margin of a neighboring rivulet, and played a merry tune, quite forgetful of his past trouble.

Bladud saw that a peasant boy, while engaged in the performance of his duties, might be as happy as a prince. Contentment and industry sweeten every lot, while useless repining only tends to aggravate the hardships to which it is the will of God that the human family should be exposed.

"You appear very happy," said Bladud to his new friend.

"How should I be otherwise?" replied the shepherd-boy: "I have wherewithal to eat and to drink; I have strength to labor, and health to enjoy my food. I sleep soundly on my bed of rushes after the toils of the day; and my master never punishes me except for carelessness or disobedience."

"I wish I were a shepherd-boy, also," said the prince: "can you tell me of some kind master, who would employ me to feed his flocks on these downs?"

The shepherd-boy shook his head, and replied, "You are a stranger lad from some distant town; most probably, by your fine painted dress, the runaway son of some great person, and unacquainted with any sort of useful occupation. Let me hear what you can do to get an honest living."

Bladud blushed deeply. He had been accustomed to spend his time in idle sports with the sons of the chieftains, and had not acquired the knowledge of anything likely to be of service in his present situation. He was silent for some minutes, but at length replied, "I can brighten arrows, string bows, and shoot at a mark."

Math, the shepherd-boy, advised his new companion, in his rustic language, not to mention these accomplishments to the peaceful herdsmen of Caynsham, (as the spot where this conference took place is now called,) lest it should create a prejudice against him; "neither," continued he, "would I counsel you to sue for service in a suit of this fashion." He laid his sunburnt hand, as he spoke, on Bladud's painted vest, lined with the fur of squirrels, which was only worn by persons of royal rank.

"Will you, for charity's sake, then, exchange your sheep-skin coat for my costly garments?" asked Bladud.

"Had you not so kindly helped me to pull my sheep out of the ditch, I would have said to you nay," replied Math; "but as one good turn deserves another, I will even give you my true shepherd's suit for your finery." So saying, he exchanged suits with the young prince.

"And now," said Bladud, "do you think I may venture to ask one of the herdsmen of the valley to trust me with the care of a flock?"

"Trust you with the care of a flock, forsooth!" cried Math, laughing; "I wonder at your presumption in thinking of such a thing, when you confess yourself ignorant of all the duties of a shepherd-boy!"

"They are very simple, and can easily be learned, I should think," said Bladud.

"Ay," replied Math, "or you had not seen them practiced by so simple a lad as Math, the son of Goff. But as all learners must have a beginning, I would not have you aspire at first to a higher office than that of a swineherd's boy; for remember, as no one knows who you are, or whence you come, you must not expect to obtain much notice from those who are the possessors of flocks and herds."

Bladud sighed deeply at this remark; but as he felt the truth of what Math said, he did not evince any displeasure at his plain speaking. He, therefore, mildly requested Math to recommend him to some master who would give him employment.

Math happened to know an aged swineherd who was in want of a lad of Bladud's age to attend on his pigs. He accordingly introduced his new friend, Bladud, as a candidate for that office; and his mild and sedate manners so well pleased the old man, that he immediately took him into his service.

Bladud at first felt the change of his fortunes very keenly, for he had been delicately fed and nurtured, and surrounded by friends, servants, and busy flatterers. He was now far separated from all who knew and loved him; exposed to wind and weather, heat and cold, and compelled to endure every species of hardship. He had no other bed than straw or rushes; his food was far worse than that which is now eaten by the poorest peasants, who deem their lot so hard; and he was clothed in undressed sheep-skins, from which the wool had been shorn. His drink was only water from the brook, and his whole time was occupied in his attendance on the swine.

At the earliest peep of dawn he was forced to rise, and lead forth into the fields and woods a numerous herd of grunting swine in quest of food, and there to remain till the shades of evening compelled him to drive them to the shelter of the rude sheds built for their accommodation, round the wretched hovel wherein his master dwelt. Bladud was sure to return weary and hungry, and often wet and sorrowful, to his forlorn home. Yet he did not murmur, though suffering at the same time under a most painful, and, as he supposed, an incurable disease.

He endeavored to bear the hardships of his lot with patience, and he derived satisfaction from the faithful performance of the duties which he had undertaken, irksome as they were. The greatest pain he endured, next to his separation from his parents, was the discovery that several of his master's pigs were infected with the same loathsome disease under which he was laboring; and this he feared would draw upon him the displeasure of the old herdsman.

But the leprosy, and its contagious nature, were evils unknown to the herdsmen of Caynsham, or Bladud would never have been able to obtain employment there. His master was an aged man, nearly blind, who, being convinced of the faithful disposition of his careful attendant, left the swine entirely to his management; so the circumstance of several of the most valuable of them being infected with leprosy, was never suspected by him. Bladud continued to lead them into the fields and forests in quest of their daily food, without incurring either question or reproach from him, or, indeed, from any one, for it was a thinly-inhabited district, and there were no gossiping neighbors to bring the tale of trouble to the old herdsman.

But though Bladud's misfortune remained undetected, he was seriously unhappy, for he felt himself to be the innocent cause of bringing the infection of a sore disease among his master's swine. He would have revealed the whole matter to him, only that he feared the evil could not now be cured.

From day to day he led his herd deeper into the forests, and further a-field; for he wished to escape the observation of every eye. Sometimes, indeed, he did not bring them back to the herdsmen's enclosure above once in a week. In the meantime he slept at night, surrounded by his uncouth companions, under the shade of some wide-spreading oak of the forest, living like them, upon acorns, or the roots of the pig-nuts, which grew in the woods and marshes, and were, when roasted, sweet and mealy, like potatoes, with the flavor of the chestnut. These were dainties in comparison to the coarse, black unleavened cakes on which poor Bladud had been used to feed ever since his unhappy banishment.

The old herdsman was perfectly satisfied with Bladud's management of the swine, and glad to find that he took the trouble of leading them into fresh districts for change of food, of which swine are always desirous.

So Bladud continued to penetrate into new and untrodden solitudes with his grunting charge, till one day he saw the bright waters of the river Avon sparkling before him in the early beams of the morning sun. He felt a sudden desire of crossing this pleasant stream. It was the fruitful season of autumn, and the reddening acorns, with which the rich oaken groves that crowned the noble hills on the opposite side were laden, promised an abundant feast for his master's swine, of whose wants he was always mindful.

He would not, however, venture to lead them across the river without first returning to acquaint his master, for he had already been abroad more than a week. So he journeyed homeward, and reached his master's hovel, with his whole herd, in safety. He then reported to the good old man, that he had wandered to the side of a beautiful river, and beheld from its grassy banks a rich and smiling country, wherein, he doubted not, that the swine would find food of the best kind, and in great abundance. "Prithee, master," quoth he, "suffer me to drive the herd across that fair stream, and if aught amiss befall them, it shall not be for want of due care and caution on the part of your faithful boy."

"Thou art free to lead the herd across the fair stream of which thou speakest, my son," replied the herdsman, "and may the blessing of an old man go with them and thee; for surely thou hast been faithful and wise in all thy doings since thou hast been my servant."

That very day he set out once more to the shores of the silvery Avon, and crossed it with the delighted pigs, at a shallow spot, which has ever since that time, in memory thereof, been called Swinford, or Swine's-ford.

No sooner, however, had they reached the opposite shore, than the whole herd set off, galloping and scampering, one over the other, as if they had one and all been seized with a sudden frenzy. No less alarmed than astonished at their sudden flight, Bladud followed them at his quickest speed, and beheld them rapidly descending into a valley, towards some springs of water, that seemed to ooze out of the boggy land in its bottom, amidst rushes, weeds, and long rank grass. Into this swamp the pigs rushed headlong, and here they rolled and reveled, tumbling, grunting, and squeaking, and knocking each other head over heels, with evident delight, but to the utter astonishment of Bladud, who was altogether unconscious of the instinct by which the gratified animals had been impelled.

All the attempts which Bladud made to, drive or entice them from this spot were entirely useless. They continued to wallow in their miry bed, until at length the calls of hunger induced them to seek the woods for food; but after they had eaten a hearty meal of acorns, they returned to the swamp, to the increasing surprise of Bladud. As for his part, having taken a supper of coarse black bread and roasted acorns, he sought shelter for the night in the thick branches of a large oak-tree.

Now poor Bladud was not aware that, guided by superior Wisdom, he had, unknown to himself, approached a spot wherein there existed a remarkable natural peculiarity. This was no other than some warm, springs of salt water, which ooze out of the earth, and possess certain medicinal properties which have the effect of curing various diseases, and on which account they are sought by afflicted persons even to the present day.

III.

Bladud awoke with the first beams of morning, and discovered his grunting charge still actively wallowing in the oozy bed in which they had taken such unaccountable delight on the preceding day.

Bladud, however, who was accustomed to reason and to reflect on everything he saw, had often observed that the natural instinct of animals prompted them to do such things as were most beneficial to them. He had noticed that cats and dogs, when sick, had recourse to certain herbs and grasses, which proved effectual remedies for the malady under which they labored; and he thought it possible that pigs might be endowed with a similar faculty of discovering an antidote for disease. At all events he resolved to watch the result of their revelings in the warm ooze bath, wherein they continued to wallow, between whiles, for several days.

The wisdom of this proceeding was shortly manifested; for Bladud soon observed that a gradual improvement was taking place in the appearance of the swine.

The leprous scales fell off by degrees, and in the course of a few weeks the leprosy gradually disappeared, and the whole herd being cleansed, was restored to a sound and healthy state.

The heart of the outcast prince was buoyant with hope and joy when the idea first presented itself to his mind, that the same simple remedy which had restored the infected swine might be equally efficacious in his own case. Divesting himself of his humble clothing and elate with joy and hope, he plunged into the warm salt ooze bed, wherein his pigs had reveled with so much advantage.

He was soon sensible of an abatement of the irritable and painful symptoms of his loathsome malady; and, in a short time, by persevering in the use of the remedy which the natural sagacity of his humble companions had suggested, he became wholly cured of the leprosy and was delighted to find himself restored to health and vigor.

After bathing, and washing away in the river the stains of the ooze, he first beheld the reflection of his own features in the clear mirror of the stream. He perceived that his skin, which had been so lately disfigured by foul blotches and frightful scales, so as to render him an object of abhorrance to his nearest and dearest friends, was now smooth, fair, and clear.

"Oh, my mother!" he exclaimed, in the overpowering rapture of his feelings on this discovery, "I may then hope to behold thy face once more! and thou wilt no longer shrink from the embrace of thy son, as in the sad, sad hour of our sorrowful parting!"

He pressed the agate ring which she had given him as her farewell token of remembrance, to his lips and to his bosom, as he spoke; then quitting the water, he once more arrayed himself in the miserable garb of his lowly fortunes, and guided his master's herd homeward.

The old man, who was beginning to grow uneasy at the unwonted length of Bladud's absence, and fearing that some accident had befallen the swine, was about to set forth in search of him, when he heard the approach of the noisy herd, and perceived Bladud advancing toward him.

"Is all well with thyself and with the herd my son?" inquired the old man.

"All is well, my father," replied Bladud, bowing himself before his lowly master, "yea, more than well; for the blessing of the great Disposer of all that befalleth the children of men, hath been with me. I left you as a poor destitute, afflicted with a sore disease, that had rendered me loathsome to my own house, and despised and shunned by all men. I was driven forth from the dwellings of health and gladness, and forced to seek shelter in the wilderness. From being the son of a king, I was reduced to become the servant of one of the humblest of his subjects, and esteemed myself fortunate in obtaining the care of a herd of swine, that I might obtain even a morsel of coarse food, and a place wherein to lay my head at night. But, behold, through this very thing have I been healed of my leprosy!"

"And who art thou, my son?" demanded the old herdsman, in whose ears the words of his youthful servant sounded like the language of a dream.

"I am Bladud, the son of Lud Hurdebras, thy king," replied the youth. "Up--let us be going, for the time seemeth long to me, till I once more look upon his face, and that of the queen, my mother."

"Thou hast never yet in aught deceived me, my son," observed the herdsman, "else should I say thou wert mocking me with some wild fable; so passing all belief doth it seem, that the son of my lord the king should have been contented to dwell with so poor and humble a man as myself in the capacity of a servant."

"In truth, the trial was a hard one," replied Bladud; "but I knew that it was my duty to submit to the direction of that heavenly Guardian who has thus shaped my lot after His good pleasure; and now do I perceive that it was in love and mercy, as well as in wisdom, that I have been afflicted." Bladud then proposed to his master that he should accompany him to his father's court; to which the old herdsman, who scarcely yet credited the assertion of his young attendant, at length consented; and they journeyed together to the royal city.

In these days, many a mean village is in appearance a more important place than were the royal cities wherein the ancient British kings kept court; for these were merely large straggling enclosures, surrounded with trenches and hedge-rows, containing a few groups of wattled huts, plastered over with clay. The huts were built round the king's palace, which was not itself a more commodious building than a modern barn, and having neither chimneys nor glazed windows, must have been but a miserable abode in the winter season.

At the period to which our story has now conducted us, it was, however, a fine warm autumn day. King Hurdebras and his queen were therefore dwelling in an open pavilion, formed of the trunks of trees, which were covered over with boughs, and garlanded with wreaths of wild flowers.

Bladud and his master arrived during the celebration of a great festival, held to commemorate the acorn-gathering, which was then completed. All ranks and conditions of people were assembled in their holiday attire, which varied from simple sheep-skins to the fur of wolves, cats, and rabbits.

Among all this concourse of people, Bladud was remarked for the poverty of his garments, which were of the rude fashion and coarse material of those of the humblest peasant. As for the old herdsman, his master, when he observed the little respect with which Bladud was treated by the rude crowds who were thronging to the royal city, he began to suspect either that the youth himself had been deluded by some strange dream respecting his royal birth and breeding, or that for knavish purposes he had practiced on his credulity, in inducing him to undertake so long a journey.

These reflections put the old man into an ill humor, which was greatly increased when, on entering the city, he became an object of boisterous mirth and rude jest to the populace. On endeavoring to ascertain the cause of this annoyance, he discovered that one of his most valuable pigs, that had formed a very powerful attachment to Prince Bladud, had followed them on their journey, and was now grunting at their very heels.

The herdsman's anger at length broke out in words, and he bitterly upbraided Bladud for having beguiled him into such a wild-goose expedition. "And, as if that were not enough," quoth he, "thou couldst not be contented without bringing thy pet pig hither, to make a fool both of thyself and me. Why, verily, we are the laughing-stock of the whole city."

Bladud mildly assured his master that it was through no act of his that the pig had followed them to his father's court.

"Thy father's court, forsooth!" retorted the old man, angrily; "I do verily believe it is all a trick which thou hast cunningly planned, for the sake of stealing my best pig. Else why shouldst thou have permitted it to follow thee thither?"

Bladud was prevented from replying to this unjust accusation by a rabble of rude boys, who had gathered round them, and began to assail the poor pig with sticks and stones. Bladud at first mildly requested them to desist from such cruel sport; but finding that they paid no attention to his remonstrances, he began to deal out blows, right and left, with his stout quarter-staff, by which he kept the foremost at bay, calling at the same time on his master to assist him in defending the pig.

But Bladud and his master together were very unequally matched against this lawless band of young aggressors. They certainly would have been very roughly handled, had it not been for the unexpected aid of a shepherd-lad who came to their assistance, and, with the help of his faithful dog, succeeded in driving away the most troublesome of their assailants.

In this brave and generous ally, Bladud had the satisfaction of discovering his old friend Math of the Downs. So completely, however, was Bladud's appearance changed in consequence of his being cleansed of the leprosy, that it was some time before he could convince Math that he was the wretched and forlorn outcast with whom he had changed clothes, nearly a twelvemonth before on the Somersetshire Downs.

Math, however, presently remembered his old clothes, in the sorry remains of which Bladud was still dressed; and Bladud also pointed with a smile to the painted vest of a British prince, in which the young shepherd had arrayed himself to attend the festival of the acorn-gathering. Strange to say, the generous boy had altogether escaped infection from the clothes of his diseased prince.

Bladud now briefly explained his situation to the astonished Math, whom he invited to join himself and his master in their visit to the royal pavilion, in order that he might be a witness of his restoration to the arms of his parents, and the honors of his father's court.

Math, though still more incredulous than even the old herdsman, was strongly moved by curiosity to witness the interview. He stoutly assisted Bladud in making his way through the crowd, who appeared resolutely bent on impeding their progress to the royal pavilion, which, however, they at length approached, still followed by the persevering pig.

IV.

The last load of acorns, adorned with the faded branches of the noble oak, and crowned with the mistletoe, a plant which the Druids taught the ancient Britons to hold in superstitious reverence, was now borne into the city, preceded by a band of Druids in their long white robes, and a company of minstrels, singing songs, and dancing before the wain. The king and queen came forth to meet the procession, and, after addressing suitable speeches to the Druids and the people, re-entered the pavilion, where they sat down to regale themselves.

Bladud, who had continued to press forward, now availed himself of an opportunity of entering the pavilion behind one of the queen's favorite ladies, whose office it was to fill her royal mistress' goblet with mead. This lady had been Bladud's nurse, which rendered her very dear to the queen, whom nothing could console for the loss of her son.

Bladud, concealed from observation by one of the rude pillars that supported the roof of the building, contemplated the scene in silence, which was broken only by the agitated beating of his swelling heart. He observed that the queen, his mother, looked sad and pale, and that she scarcely tasted of the cheer before her. She sighed deeply from time to time, and kept her eyes fixed on the vacant place which, in former happy days used to be occupied by her only son!

King Hurdebras endeavored to prevail upon her to partake of some of the dainties with which the board was spread.

"How can I partake of costly food," she replied, "when my only child is a wanderer on the face of the earth, and, perchance, lacketh bread?"

Bladud, unable longer to restrain the emotions under which he labored, now softly stole from behind the pillar, and, unperceived, dropped the agate ring into his mother's goblet.

"Nay," replied the king, "but this is useless sorrow, my lady queen. Thinkest thou that I have borne the loss of our only son without grief and sorrow? Deeply have I also suffered; but we must not forget that it is our duty to bow with humility to the wise decrees of the great Disposer of all human events?"

"But canst thou feel our loss in like degree with me?" she exclaimed, bursting into tears; "what shall equal a mother's love, or the grief of her who sorroweth for her only one?"

"Fill high the goblet, Hetha," said the king, turning to the favorite of his royal consort; "and implore the queen, thy mistress, to taste of the sweet mead, and, for the happiness of those around her, to subdue her sorrow."

The queen, after some persuasion, took the wine-cup, and raised it with a reluctant hand; but, ere the sparkling liquor reached her lips, she perceived the ring at the bottom of the goblet, and hastily pouring the mead upon the ground, seized the precious token, and holding it up, with a cry of joy, exclaimed, "My son! my son!"

Bladud sprang forward, and bowed his knee to the earth before her. "Hast thou forgotten me, oh! my mother?" he exclaimed, in a faltering voice; for the queen, accustomed to see her princely son attired in robes befitting his royal birth, looked with a doubtful eye on the ragged garb of abject indigence in which the youth was arrayed. Moreover, he was sun-burnt and weather-beaten; had grown tall and robust; and was, withal, attended by his strange friend, the pig, who, in the untaught warmth of his affection, had intruded himself into the presence of royalty, in the train of his master.

A second glance convinced the queen, the king, and the delightful Hetha, that it was indeed the long-lost Bladud upon whom they looked; and it scarcely required the testimony of the old herdsman, his master, and that of his friend Math, the shepherd, to certify the fact, and bear witness to the truth of his simple tale.

Touching was the scene when the king, recovering from the surprise into which the first shock of recognition had plunged him, rushed forward and clasped his long-lost son to his bosom. The big tear-drops rolled down his manly cheeks, and, relaxing the dignity of the king, and the sternness of the warrior, all the energies of his nature were embodied in the one single feeling, that he was a happy and a beloved father!

The news of the return of their prince spread throughout the assembled multitudes, on wings of joy. Loud and long were the shouts and acclamations which burst forth in every direction, as the distant groups became apprised of the event. The Druids and the Minstrels formed themselves into processions, in which the people joined; and the harpers, sounding their loudest strains, struck up their songs of joy and triumph. The oxen, loosened from the wains, and decked with garlands of flowers, were led forward in the train; and the dancers and revelers followed, performing with energy and delight their rude sports and pastimes around the king's pavilion.

Night at length closed upon the happy scene, and the king and queen retired to their tent, accompanied by their son, to learn from his lips the course of events by which his life had been preserved, and his health restored. They joined in humble thanks to the Great Author of all happiness, for the special blessings that had been bestowed upon them; and the king marked his sense of gratitude by gifts and benefits extended to the helpless and the deserving among his subjects. The good old herdsman was among the most favored, and the worthy Math was put in a path of honor and promotion, of which he proved himself well deserving.

"HIS LUDSHIP."

BARBARA YECHTON.

You could not have found anywhere two happier boys than were Charlie and Selwyn Kingsley one Saturday morning early in June. In their delight they threw their arms around each other and danced up and down the piazza, they tossed their hats in the air and hurrahed, they sprang down the stone steps two at a time, dashed about the grounds in a wild fashion that excited their dog Fritz, and set him barking in the expectation of a frolic, then raced across to their special chum and playmate, Ned Petry. They arrived there almost out of breath, but with such beaming faces that before they reached the hammock where he lay swinging Ned called out, "Halloa! what's happened? Something good, I know."

"We're going--" panted Charlie, dropping down on the grass beside him.

"To Europe!" supplemented Selwyn.

"No!" cried Ned, springing up. "Isn't that just jolly! When do you sail, and who all are going? Let's sit in the hammock together. Now tell me all about it." The three boys crowded into the hammock, and for a few minutes questions and answers flew thick and fast.

"You know we've always wanted to go." said Charlie. Ned nodded. "And the last time papa went he promised he'd take us the next trip, but we didn't dream he was going this summer."

"Though we suspected something was up," broke in Selwyn, "because for about a week past whenever Charlie and I would come into the room papa and mamma'd stop talking; but we never thought of Europe."

"Until this morning," continued Charlie, "after breakfast, when papa said, 'Boys, how would you like a trip to Europe with your mother and me?'"

"At first we thought he was joking," again interrupted eager little Selwyn, "because his eyes twinkled just as they do when he is telling a joke."

"But he wasn't," resumed his brother, "and the long and short of the matter is that we are all--papa, mamma, sister Agatha, Selwyn, and I--to sail in the Majestic, June 17, so we've only about a week more to wait."

"Oh! oh! it's too splendid for anything!" cried Selwyn, clapping his hands in delight and giving the hammock a sudden impetus, which set it swaying rapidly. "We're to spend some time with Uncle Geoffrey Barrington--you know, Ned, Rex's father--and we're to see all the sights of 'famous London town'--the Houses of Parliament, the Zoo, Westminster Abbey, and the dear old Tower! Just think of it, Ned, papa's going to show us the very cells in which Lady Jane Grey and Sir Walter Raleigh were shut up! Oh, don't I wish you were going, too!"

"Wouldn't it be splendid!" said Charlie, throwing his arm across Ned's shoulders.

"Wouldn't it!" echoed Ned, ruefully. "I wonder when our turn will come; soon, I hope. I shall miss you fellows awfully."

"Never mind, Ned, we'll write to you," cried both boys, warmly, "and tell you all about everything."

The next week was full of pleasant excitement for Charlie and Selwyn. They left school a few days before it closed that they might help mamma and sister Agatha, who were very busy getting things into what papa called "leaving order." There was a great deal to do, but at last everything was accomplished, the steamer trunks had been packed, and some last good-byes spoken. Fritz and the rabbits had been given into Ned's keeping with many injunctions and cautions. Carefully wrapped in cloths, the boys had placed their bicycles in the seclusion which a garret granted. Balls, tennis rackets, boxes of pet tools, favorite books, everything, in fact, had been thought of and cared for, and at last the eventful day of sailing arrived.

A number of friends came to the city to see the Kingsleys off. They sat in the saloon of the big steamer with Mrs. Kingsley and her daughter, while the boys, under papa's care, remained on the dock for a while, deeply interested in their unusual surroundings. They were almost wild with excitement, which not even the prospect of parting with Ned could quiet, and it is not much to be wondered at, there was so much going on.

The long covered dock was crowded with men, women, and children, nearly all of whom were talking at the same time. Large wagons were unloading; trunks, boxes and steamer-chairs stood about, which the steamer "hands" were carrying up the gangway as rapidly as possible; huge cases, burlap-covered bundles, barrels and boxes were being lowered into the hold by means of a derrick; men were shouting, children crying, horses champing, and in the midst of the confusion loving last words were being spoken.

When papa joined the grown people in the saloon, Charlie, Selwyn, and Ned made a tour of the steamer. Of course they were careful not to get in the way of the busy sailors, but they found lots to see without doing that. First, wraps and hand-satchels were deposited in their state-rooms, which were directly opposite each other, and the state-rooms thoroughly investigated, each boy climbing into the upper berths "to see how it felt." Then they visited the kitchen, saw the enormous tea and coffee pots, and the deep, round shining pans in which the food was cooked. But they did not stay here long, as it was nearly dinner time, and everybody was very busy. Next came the engine-room, which completely fascinated them with its many wheels and rods and bolts, all shining like new silver and gold.

From there they went on deck, clambered up little flights of steps as steep as ladders and as slippery as glass; walked about the upper deck, and managed to see a great deal in fifteen or twenty minutes. By the time they returned to the gangway all the baggage and merchandise had been taken on board. A man in a blue coat with brass buttons, and a cap with a gilt band around it, called out in a loud voice, "All on shore!" and then came last good-byes. Smiles and laughter vanished, tears and sobs took their places. "Good-bye!" "God bless you!" "Bon voyage!" "Don't forget to write!" was heard on every side. Mamma and sister Agatha shed a few tears; even papa was seen to take off his glasses several times to wipe the moisture which would collect on them.

Of course, Charlie, Selwyn, and Ned wouldn't cry, that was "too babyish;" but they had to wink very hard at one time to avert such a disgrace, and just at the last, when no one was looking, they threw dignity to the winds, and heartily kissed each other good-bye.

"Write just as soon as you get over," cried Ned, as he ran down the gangway.

"We will, indeed we will!" the boys answered, eagerly. Then the gangway was drawn on board, the engine began to move, and the big ship steamed away from the pier in fine style, with flags flying and handkerchiefs fluttering.

Mrs. Kingsley was confined to her berth for nearly all of the voyage, but the rest of the family remained in excellent health and spirits, and the boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

When about three days out the ship passed near enough to an iceberg for the passengers to distinguish distinctly its castle-like outline, and to feel the chill it gave to the air.

Our two boys were such courteous, kindly little gentlemen that all who came in contact with them liked them, and returned to them the same measure that they gave. The captain even took them on the "bridge," a favor which was not accorded to any other boy or girl on board. And what with visiting the engine-room, waiting on mamma and sister Agatha, walking and talking with papa, sitting in their steamer-chairs, and paying proper attention to the good things which were served four or five times a day, Charlie and Selwyn found that the time fairly flew away. Selwyn had brought "An American Boy in London" to read aloud to Charlie, but there were so many other interesting things to occupy their attention that only one chapter was accomplished.

On the afternoon of the seventh day after leaving New York, the Majestic steamed up to the Liverpool dock, and a few hours later the Kingsleys found themselves comfortably settled in a railroad carriage en route for London. It was late when they arrived in the great metropolis, and every one was glad enough to get to the hotel and to rest as quickly as possible.

Early the next morning Uncle Geoffrey Barrington came to carry off the entire family to his big house in Portland Place. Here he declared they should remain during their stay in London, and as he had a charming wife and grown-up daughter, who devoted themselves to Mrs. Kingsley and sister Agatha, and a son about Charlie's age, who was full of fun and friendliness, all parties found themselves well satisfied with the arrangement.

Uncle Geof was one of the judges of the Queen's Bench, and a very busy man, so he could not always go about with his American relatives; but Dr. Kingsley was well acquainted with London, and therefore able to escort his party to all the places of interest. I only wish I had time to tell you of all the delightful trips they took, and all the interesting things they saw in this fascinating old city. Visits to the Tower, the Houses of Parliament, where they heard "Big Ben" strike the hour--and Westminster Abbey with its illustrious dead; excursions to Windsor and the Crystal Palace; sails down the Thames, and dinners and teas at Richmond and Kew Gardens, driving home by moonlight! How the boys did enjoy it all, and what long letters went home to America addressed to Master Edward Petry!

All this sight-seeing took up many days; three weeks slipped by before anybody realized it, and Dr. Kingsley was talking of a trip to the Continent, when a little incident occurred of which I must tell you.

Rex and his American cousins had become the best of friends. He knew all about their pretty home in Orange, about Ned and the rabbits, Fritz, the bicycling, and the tennis playing, while they in their turn took the deepest interest in his country and Eton experiences. They took "bus" rides together, and played jokes on the pompous footman, whom Charlie had nicknamed the "S. C." (Superb Creature).

One morning Rex and our two boys went to Justice Barrington's chambers. There they expected to find Dr. Kingsley, but when they arrived only Jarvis, the solemn-faced old servitor, met them. He showed them into the inner room and left them to their own devices, saying that "his ludship and the reverend doctor" would, no doubt, soon be in.

The room was very dark; three sides were covered with uninteresting-looking law books, and after gazing out of the window, which overlooked a quiet little church-yard where the monuments and headstones were falling into decay, the three boys were at a loss what to do with themselves. Charlie and Selwyn would have liked a walk about the neighborhood, but Reginald demurred. "It's a horrid bore being shut up here," he admitted frankly, "but papa might return while we were out, and I'm not sure that he would like to find us away. I wish I could think of some way to amuse you. Oh, I know--we were talking about barristers' robes the other day; I'll show you papa's gown and wig. I know where Jarvis keeps them. Wouldn't you like to see them?"

"Indeed we should," responded the American boys. So, after hunting for the key, Rex opened what he called a "cupboard" (though Charlie and Selwyn thought it a closet), where hung a long black silk robe, very similar in style to those worn by our bishops in America. This he brought out; next, from a flat wooden box, which looked very old and black, he drew a large, white, curly wig. The boys looked at these with eager interest. "These are like what are worn in the Houses of Parliament," said Charlie. "What a funny idea to wear such a dress."

"I think it's a very nice idea," Rex answered, quickly. "I assure you the judges and the barristers look very imposing in their robes and wigs."

"I expect to be a lawyer one of these days; wouldn't I astonish the American public if I appeared in such a costume?" said Charlie, laughing. "I wonder how I'd look in it?"

"Try it on and see," suggested Rex.

"Oh, do, do, Charlie! it'll be such fun!" pleaded Selwyn. So, nothing loth, Charlie slipped on the long black silk robe, then Rex and Selwyn arranged the thin white muslin bands at his throat, and settled the big white wig on his head. His soft, dark hair was brushed well off his face so that not a lock escaped from beneath the wig, and when he put on a pair of Uncle Geof's spectacles, which lay conveniently near, the boys were convulsed with laughter at his appearance.

"Good-day, your 'ludship,'" said Rex, with a mocking bow; "will your 'ludship' hold court to-day?"

"Yes, let's have court and try a prisoner," cried Charlie, who began to feel rather proud of his unusual appearance. "You don't mind, do you, Rex?"

"Why, no! I think it'll be no end of fun," was the merry reply. "One of us could be the prisoner, and the other the barrister who defends him. I'd better be the barrister, because I know more about English law than Selwyn does. And the furniture'll have to be the other counsel and the gentlemen of the jury. Sit over there, Charlie, near that railing, and we'll make believe it's the bar. The only trouble is the barrister will have no gown and wig. Isn't it a pity?"

"Let's take the table cover," suggested Selwyn, which was immediately acted upon. With their combined efforts, amid much laughter, it was draped about Rex's shoulders in a fashion very nearly approaching the graceful style of a North American Indian's blanket. A Russian bath towel, which they also found in the closet, was arranged on his head for a wig; then Selwyn was placed behind a chair which was supposed to be the prisoner's box, the judge took his place, and court opened.

The ceremony differed from any previously known in judicial experience, and bursts of merry laughter disturbed the dignity of the learned judge and counsel, to say nothing of the prisoner.

"The prisoner at the bar, your 'ludship,'" began the counsel, striving to steady his voice, "has stolen a--a--a--what shall I say you have stolen?" addressing Selwyn in a stage whisper.

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Stole a pig,
And away did run;
The pig was eat,
And Tom was beat,
And Tom went roaring
Down the street,"

sang the prisoner, in a sweet little voice.

"Your 'ludship,' singing is contempt of court; you will please fine the prisoner at the bar," said the counsel, regardless of the fact that the prisoner was supposed to be his client.

"Silence, both of you!" cried the judge, with impartial justice, rapping his desk sharply with a brass paper-cutter. "Now, Mr. Barrister, state the case." Then, in an aside, "Wasn't that well said?"

"The prisoner has stolen a pig, your 'ludship,'" said the counsel. "He admits it, but as the animal has been eaten--"

"And the prisoner has been beaten," put in the incorrigible Selwyn.

"And the prisoner is a stranger in a strange land," continued Rex, ignoring the irrelevant remark, "a most noble and learned American--ahem!--what sentence, your 'ludship,' shall be passed upon him?"

"Hum, hum!" said his "ludship," resting his cheek on his hand meditatively, trying to assume the expression which he had seen sometimes on papa's face when he and Selwyn were under consideration for some childish offence.

"The court waits, your 'ludship,'" remarked the counsel, throwing a paper ball at the judge.

"Silence!" again shouted the judge, rapping vigorously. "The sentence is this: the prisoner shall stand on his head for two seconds, then recite a piece of poetry, and then--in the course of a week--leave the country."

"Your 'ludship' will please sign the sentence and we will submit it to the jury," suggested the learned counsel, who, as you will perceive, had rather peculiar ideas about court formula.

"What shall I sign?" asked his "ludship."

"Anything," said Rex. "Those papers all look like old things--quick! I think I hear Jarvis coming. Sign the one in your hand. Just write Geoffrey Addison Barrington. It's only for fun, you know."

He caught up a dingy-looking document, opened it, and, thrusting the pen which was in his "ludship's" hand into the ink, he and the prisoner at the bar crowded up to see the signature which Charlie wrote as he had been told to do, in a distinct schoolboy's hand. He had barely crossed the "t" and dotted the last "i" when they heard a step, and scurrying into the cupboard, they saw Jarvis come in, take something from the desk, and go out without a glance in their direction. As the door closed behind him it opened again to admit Justice Barrington and Dr. Kingsley.

"Where are they?" asked Uncle Geof, peering about the dark room as if the boys might be hidden behind some table or chair.

"Boys," called the doctor, "where are you?"

Then they walked out--such a funny-looking trio! Rex's table-cover robe floated behind him, and the style of his wig was certainly unique. Selwyn had brought away on his coat a goodly share of the dust of the cupboard. His brown hair stood on end, and his blue eyes were shining with excitement. But his "ludship" brought down the house. He came forth holding up his long gown on each side, his bands were almost under his left ear, his wig was on one side, and his glasses awry! The contrast between his magisterial garb and his round young face and merry hazel eyes was too much for the gravity of the two gentlemen. With a glance at each other they burst into a long, hearty laugh, in which the boys joined.

A little later, the gown and wig having been restored to their proper places by the much scandalized Jarvis, the party returned to Portland Square. And none of the boys thought of mentioning that Charlie had signed a document with his uncle's name, which he had not read.

A few days after this Dr. Kingsley and his family left England for the Continent, taking Rex with them, and not until September did they return to London for a short visit before sailing for America.

"I have an account to settle with you, Master Charlie," said Uncle Geoffrey, the first evening, when they were all assembled in the drawing-room. "Do you recollect a certain visit to my chambers when you represented a judge of the Queen's Bench?"

Charlie, Selwyn and Rex looked at each other, laughed, and nodded.

"Do you remember signing a paper?" asked the justice.

"Yes," said Charlie; "but it was an old dingy-looking one--we didn't read it--I just signed it for fun."

"I told Charlie to put your name to it," broke in Rex, eagerly. "Is anything wrong, papa?"

"I will tell you the story and you shall judge for yourself," said the justice, smiling. "As it happened, the paper Charlie signed was not an old one. It was in reference to removing an orphan boy from one guardianship to another. He is about as old as Charlie, and it appears that the first guardian ill-treated the little fellow under the guise of kindness, being only intent on gain. When the paper which 'his ludship,'" with a deep bow in Charlie's direction--"signed arrived, the boy was delighted, and he thoroughly enjoys the excellent home he is now in. Imagine my surprise when a letter reached me thanking me for my wise decision. I could not understand it, as I thought I knew the paper in reference to it was lying on my desk waiting its turn. You may well laugh, you young rogues."

"How did you find out?" asked Charlie, divided between contrition and a desire to enjoy the joke.

"Jarvis and I traced it out. I paid a visit to Wales and put the signature of the original Barrington to the document. The present guardian of the boy declares the little fellow's disposition would have been completely ruined if he had remained much longer under his former guardian's care, and I am afraid, in the ordinary course of the law, which moves slowly, it would have been some time before the matter could have been attended to. So you have done that much good to a fellow-boy. Only be careful in the future, dear lad, to read a document before signing it, for carelessness in that direction might not always end as well as it has in this instance. What puzzles me is how you came to take that particular paper when so many others lay about; it was but one chance in a million."

"'A chance--the eternal God that chance did guide,'" quoted Dr. Kingsley, in his quiet, gentle voice.

"What lots we'll have to tell Ned! O boys, do let's cheer!" cried Selwyn eagerly, springing to his feet. "Here goes--three cheers for Uncle Geof and dear papa, and a big, big 'tiger' for his 'ludship!'"

THE PIOUS CONSTANCE.

Once upon a time the Emperor of Rome had a beautiful daughter named Constance. She was so fair to look on, that far and wide, she was spoken of as "the beautiful princess." But, better than that, she was so good and so saintly that everybody in her father's dominions loved her, and often they forgot to call her "the beautiful princess," but called her instead, "Constance the good."