assembled in the great square of the capital, to see the young prince
installed solemnly in his new duties, and undertaking his new vows. He
was a very fine young fellow; tall and straight as a poplar tree, with a
frank, handsome face--a great deal handsomer than the king, some people
said, but others thought differently. However, as his Majesty sat on his
throne, with his gray hair falling from underneath his crown, and a few
wrinkles showing in spite of his smile, there was something about his
countenance which made his people, even while they shouted, regard him
with a tenderness mixed with awe.

He lifted up his thin, slender hand, and there came a silence over the
vast crowd immediately. Then he spoke, in his own accustomed way, using
no grand words, but saying what he had to say in the simplest fashion,
though with a clearness that struck their ears like the first song of a
bird in the dusk of the morning.

"My people, I am tired: I want to rest. I have had a long reign, and
done much work--at least, as much as I was able to do. Many might have
done it better than I--but none with a better will. Now I leave it to
others; I am tired, very tired. Let me go home."

There arose a murmur--of content or discontent none could well tell;
then it died down again, and the assembly listened silently once more.

"I am not anxious about you, my people--my children," continued the
King. "You are prosperous and at peace. I leave you in good hands. The
Prince Regent will be a fitter king for you than I."

"No, no, no!" rose the universal shout--and those who had sometimes
found fault with him shouted louder than anybody. But he seemed as if he