cling to my boots. And never did flies scent a barrel of sugar more
quickly than that horde of boot-blacks discovered my mud-laden
extremities. They swooped down upon me with their piercing cries,
until many of my fellow-passengers gazed on my boots with looks that
seemed to rebuke me for my temerity in daring to bring such a large
amount of soil to add to the already over-stocked supply of the city.
My very boots seemed to plead with me to let one of those boys relieve
them of the load that weighed them down. But, behold my dilemma--six
persistent, lusty, vociferous boys clamoring for one job, while I, as
arbiter, must deal out elation to one boy, and dejection to the five.

"Silence! Fall into line for inspection!" Behold my brigade, standing
in line, and no two of them alike in size, feature or dress. All
looked eager, and five of them looked at my boots and pointed their
index fingers at the same objects. The sixth boy held up his head in a
manly way and looked me in the eye. I looked him over and was affected
in two ways. His clothes touched my funny bone and made me laugh
before I knew it. If those pants had been made for that boy, then
since that time there had been a great growth in that boy or a great
shrinkage in the pants. But, if the pants were several sizes too small
and fit him too little, the coat was several sizes too large and fit
him too much, so that his garments gave him the appearance of being a
small child from his waist down, and an old man from his waist up. The
laugh that came as my sense of humor was touched, instantly ceased as I
saw the flush that came to the boy's face. The other five boys wanted
to get at my boots, but this one had got at my heart, and I made up my
mind he should get at my boots as well, and straightway made known my
decision. This at once brought forth a volley of jibes and jeers and
cutting remarks. "Oh, 'His Royal Highness' gets the job, and he will
be prouder and meaner than ever, he will. Say, mister, he's too proud