the next. "The king is dead--long live the king!" was the cry that rang
through the nation, and almost before his late Majesty had been laid
beside the Queen in their splendid mausoleum, crowds came thronging from
all parts to the royal palace, eager to see the new monarch.

They did see him,--the Prince Regent took care they should,--sitting on
the floor of the council chamber, sucking his thumb! And when one of
the gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and carried him--fancy carrying a
king!--to the chair of state, and put the crown on his head, he shook it
off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. Sliding down to the foot
of the throne he began playing with the golden lions that supported it,
stroking their paws and putting his tiny fingers into their eyes, and
laughing--laughing as if he had at last found something to amuse him.

"There's a fine king for you!" said the first lord-in-waiting, a friend
of the Prince Regent's (the Crown-Prince that used to be, who, in the
deepest mourning, stood silently beside the throne of his young nephew.
He was a handsome man, very grand and clever-looking). "What a king! who
can never stand to receive his subjects, never walk in processions, who
to the last day of his life will have to be carried about like a baby.
Very unfortunate!"

"Exceedingly unfortunate," repeated the second lord. "It is always bad
for a nation when its king is a child; but such a child--a permanent
cripple, if not worse."

"Let us hope not worse," said the first lord in a very hopeless tone,
and looking toward the Regent, who stood erect and pretended to hear
nothing. "I have heard that these sort of children with very large
heads, and great broad fore-heads and staring eyes, are--well, well, let