good all the same. Good-by!"

But, as the cloak hung irresolute in air, he suddenly remembered that he
had not determined where to go--indeed, he did not know, and there was
nobody to tell him.

"Godmother," he cried, in much perplexity, "you know what I want,--at
least, I hope you do, for I hardly do myself--take me where I ought to
go; show me whatever I ought to see--never mind what I like to see,"
as a sudden idea came into his mind that he might see many painful and
disagreeable things. But this journey was not for pleasure as before. He
was not a baby now, to do nothing but play--big boys do not always play.
Nor men neither--they work. Thus much Prince Dolor knew--though very
little more.

As the cloak started off, traveling faster than he had ever known it to
do,--through sky-land and cloud land, over freezing mountain-tops, and
desolate stretches of forest, and smiling cultivated plains, and great
lakes that seemed to him almost as shoreless as the sea,--he was often
rather frightened. But he crouched down, silent and quiet; what was the
use of making a fuss? and, wrapping himself up in his bear-skin, waited
for what was to happen.

After some time he heard a murmur in the distance, increasing more
and more till it grew like the hum of a gigantic hive of bees. And,
stretching his chin over the rim of his cloak, Prince Dolor saw--far,
far below him, yet, with his gold spectacles and silver ears on, he
could distinctly hear and see--what?

Most of us have some time or other visited a great metropolis--have