stood and fed contentedly at the bottom of the tower.

Prince Dolor leaned over and looked at it, and thought how grand it must
be to get upon its back--this grand live steed--and ride away, like the
pictures of knights.

"Suppose I was a knight," he said to himself; "then I should be obliged
to ride out and see the world."

But he kept all these thoughts to himself, and just sat still, devouring
his new books till he had come to the end of them all. It was a repast
not unlike the Barmecide's feast which you read of in the "Arabian
Nights," which consisted of very elegant but empty dishes, or that
supper of Sancho Panza in "Don Quixote," where, the minute the smoking
dishes came on the table, the physician waved his hand and they were all
taken away.

Thus almost all the ordinary delights of boy-life had been taken away
from, or rather never given to this poor little prince.

"I wonder," he would sometimes think--"I wonder what it feels like to
be on the back of a horse, galloping away, or holding the reins in a
carriage, and tearing across the country, or jumping a ditch, or running
a race, such as I read of or see in pictures. What a lot of things there
are that I should like to do! But first I should like to go and see the
world. I'll try."

Apparently it was his godmother's plan always to let him try, and try
hard, before he gained anything. This day the knots that tied up his
traveling-cloak were more than usually troublesome, and he was a