The third cousin on the mother's side was a very different person. He
was a boy of about twelve years of age; and as his father and mother
had died when he was very young, he had been for nearly all his life
under the charge of an elderly and prudent man, who acted as his
guardian and tutor. These two, also, soon arrived in Mutjado,--the
boy, Phedo, being mounted on a little donkey, which was his almost
constant companion. As soon as they reached the territory of the late
Autocrat, old Salim, the tutor, left the boy at an inn, and went
forward by himself to take a look at the other third cousin. When he
saw Alberdin mounted on his fine horse, and looking so strong and
valiant, his heart was much disturbed.

"I had hoped," he said to himself, "that the other one was a small
boy, but such does not appear to be the case. There is but one way to
have a fair fight between these two. They must not now be allowed to
see each other. If they can be kept apart until my boy grows up, he
will then be able, with the military education which I intend he
shall have, to engage in combat with any man. They must not meet for
at least thirteen years. Phedo will then be twenty-five, and able to
do worthy combat. To be sure, I am somewhat old myself to undertake
to superintend so long a delay, but I must do my best to keep well
and strong, and to attain the greatest possible longevity."

Salim had always been in the habit of giving thirty-two chews to
every mouthful of meat, and a proportionate number of chews to other
articles of food; and had, so far, been very healthy. But he now
determined to increase the number of chews to thirty-six, for it
would be highly necessary for him to live until it was time for the
battle between the third cousins to take place.

Having made up his mind on these points, the old tutor introduced
himself to Alberdin, and told him that he had come to arrange the
terms of combat.

"In the first place," said Alberdin, "I should like to know what sort
of a person my opponent is."

"He is not a cavalryman like you," answered Salim; "he belongs to the
heavy infantry."

At this, Alberdin looked grave. He knew very well that a stout and
resolute man on foot had often the advantage of one who is mounted.
He would have preferred meeting a horseman, and fighting on equal
terms.

"Has he had much experience in war?" asked the young man.

"It is not long," answered the tutor, "since he was almost constantly
in arms, winter and summer."

"He must be a practised warrior," thought Alberdin. "I must put
myself in good fighting-trim before I meet him."

After some further conversation on the subject, the old man advised
Alberdin to go into camp on a beautiful plain not far from the base
of a low line of mountains.

"Your opponent," said he, "will intrench himself in the valley on the
other side. With the mountains between you, neither of you need fear
a surprise; and when both are ready, a place of meeting can be
appointed.

"Now, then," said Salim to himself when this had been settled; "if I
can keep them apart for thirteen years, all may be well."

As soon as possible, Alberdin pitched a tent upon the appointed spot,
and began to take daily warlike exercise in the plain, endeavoring in
every way to put himself and his horse into proper condition for the
combat.

On the other side of the mountain, old Salim intrenched himself and
the boy, Phedo. He carefully studied several books on military
engineering, and caused a fortified camp to be constructed on the
most approved principles. It was surrounded by high ramparts, and
outside of these was a moat filled with water. In the centre of the
camp was a neat little house which was well provided with books,
provisions, and every thing necessary for a prolonged stay. When the
drawbridge was up, it would be impossible for Alberdin to get inside
of the camp; and, moreover, the ramparts were so high that he could
not look over them to see what sort of antagonist he was to have. Old
Salim did not tell the boy why he brought him here to live. It would
be better to wait until he was older before informing him of the
battle which had been decreed. He told Phedo that it was necessary
for him to have a military education, which could very well be
obtained in a place like this; and he was also very careful to let
him know that there was a terrible soldier in that part of the
country who might at any time, if it were not for the intrenchments,
pounce down upon him, and cut him to pieces. Every fine day, Phedo
was allowed to take a ride on his donkey outside of the
fortifications, but during this time, the old tutor kept a strict
watch on the mountain; and if a horseman had made his appearance,
little Phedo would have been whisked inside, and the drawbridge would
have been up in a twinkling.

After about two weeks of this life Phedo found it dreadfully stupid
to see no one but his old tutor, and never to go outside of these
great ramparts except for donkey-rides, which were generally very
short. He therefore determined, late one moonlight night, to go out
and take a ramble by himself. He was not afraid of the dreadful
soldier of whom the old man had told him, because at that time of
night this personage would, of course, be in bed and asleep.
Considering these things, he quietly dressed himself, took down a
great key from over his sleeping tutor's head, opened the heavy gate,
let down the drawbridge, mounted upon his donkey, and rode forth upon
the moonlit plain.

That night-ride was a very delightful one, and for a long time the
boy and the donkey rambled and ran; first going this way and then
that, they gradually climbed the mountain; and, reaching the brow,
they trotted about for a while, and then went down the other side.
The boy had been so twisted and turned in his course that he did not
notice that he was not descending toward his camp, and the donkey,
whose instinct told it that it was not going the right way, was also
told by its instinct that it did not wish to go the right way, and
that the intrenchments offered it no temptations to return. When the
morning dawned, Phedo perceived that he was really lost, and he began
to be afraid that he might meet the terrible soldier. But, after a
time, he saw riding toward him a very pleasant-looking young man on a
handsome horse, and he immediately took courage.

"Now," said he to himself, "I am no longer in danger. If that
horrible cut-throat should appear, this good gentleman will protect
me."

Alberdin had not seen any one for a long time, and he was very glad
to meet with so nice a little boy. When Phedo told him that he was
lost, he invited him to come to his tent, near by, and have
breakfast. While they were eating their meal, Alberdin asked the boy
if in the course of his rambles he had met with a heavy infantry
soldier, probably armed to the teeth, and very large and strong.

"Oh, I've heard of that dreadful man!" cried Phedo, "and I am very
glad that I did not meet him. If he comes, I hope you'll protect me
from him."

"I will do that," said Alberdin; "but I am afraid I shall not be able
to help you find your way home, for in doing so I should throw myself
off my guard, and might be set upon unexpectedly by this fellow, with
whom I have a regular engagement to fight. There is to be a time
fixed for the combat, for which I feel myself nearly ready, but I
have no doubt that my enemy will be very glad to take me at a
disadvantage if I give him a chance."

Phedo looked about him with an air of content. The tent was large and
well furnished; there seemed to be plenty of good things to eat; the
handsome horseman was certainly a very good-humored and agreeable
gentleman; and, moreover, the tent was not shut in by high and gloomy
ramparts.

"I do not think you need trouble yourself," said he to his host, "to
help me to find my way home. I live with my tutor, and I am sure that
when he knows I am gone he will begin to search for me, and after
awhile he will find me. Until then, I can be very comfortable here."

For several days the two third cousins of the Autocrat lived together
in the tent, and enjoyed each other's society very much. Then
Alberdin began to grow a little impatient.

"If I am to fight this heavy infantry man," he said; "I should like
to do it at once. I am now quite ready, and I think he ought to be. I
expected to hear from him before this time, and I shall start out and
see if I can get any news of his intentions. I don't care about going
over the mountain without giving him notice, but the capital city of
Mutjado is only a day's ride to the west, and there I can cause
inquiries to be made when he would like to meet me, and where."

"I will go with you," said Phedo, greatly delighted at the idea of
visiting the city.

"Yes, I will take you," said Alberdin. "Your tutor don't seem
inclined to come for you, and, of course, I can't leave you here."

The next day, Alberdin on his horse, and Phedo on his donkey, set out
for the city, where they arrived late in the afternoon. After finding
a comfortable lodging, Alberdin sent messengers to the other side of
the mountain, where his opponent was supposed to be encamped, and
gave them power to arrange with him for a meeting. He particularly
urged them to try to see the old man who had come to him at first,
and who had seemed to be a very fair-minded and sensible person. In
two days, however, the messengers returned, stating that they had
found what they supposed to be the intrenched camp of the heavy
infantry man they had been sent in search of, but that it was
entirely deserted, and nobody could be seen anywhere near it.

"It is very likely," said Alberdin, "that he has watched my
manoeuvres and exercises from the top of the mountain, and has
concluded to run away. I shall give him a reasonable time to show
himself, and then, if he does not come forward, I will consider him
beaten, and claim the Autocracy."

"That is a good idea," said Phedo, "but I think, if you can, you
ought to find him and kill him, or drive him out of the country.
That's what I should do, if I were you."

"Of course I shall do that, if I can," said Alberdin; "but I could
not be expected to wait for him forever."

When his intention had been proclaimed, Alberdin was informed of
something which he did not know before, and that was that the late
Autocrat had left an only daughter, a Princess about twenty years
old. But although she was his daughter, she could not inherit his
crown, for the laws of the country forbade that any woman should
become Autocrat. A happy idea now struck Alberdin.

"I will marry the Princess," he said, "and then every one will think
that it is the most suitable thing for me to become Autocrat."

So Alberdin sent to the Princess to ask permission to speak with her,
and was granted an audience. With much courtesy and politeness he
made known his plans to the lady, and hoped that she would consider
it advisable to marry him.

"I am sorry to interfere with any of your arrangements," said the
Princess, "but as soon as I heard the terms of my father's will, I
made up my mind to marry the victor in the contest. As I cannot
inherit the throne myself, the next best thing is to be the wife of
the man who does. Go forth, then, and find your antagonist, and when
you have conquered him, I will marry you."

"And if he conquers me, you will marry him?" said Alberdin.

"Yes, sir," answered the Princess, with a smile, and dismissed him.

It was plain enough that there was nothing for Alberdin to do but to
go and look for the heavy infantry man. Phedo was very anxious to
accompany him, and the two, mounted as before, set out from the city
on their quest.

When old Salim, the tutor of Phedo, awoke in the morning and found
the boy gone, he immediately imagined that the youngster had ran away
to his old home; so he set forth with all possible speed, hoping to
overtake him. But when he reached the distant town where Phedo had
lived, he found that the boy had not been there; and after taking
some needful rest, he retraced his steps, crossed the mountains, and
made his way toward the capital city, hoping to find news of him
there. It was necessary for him to be very careful in his inquiries,
for he wished no one to find out that the little boy he was looking
for was the third cousin of the late Autocrat on the mother's side.
He therefore disguised himself as a migratory medical man, and
determined to use all possible caution. When he reached the camp of
the young horseman, Alberdin, and found that personage gone, his
suspicions became excited.

"If these two have run off together," he said to himself, "my task is
indeed difficult. If the man discovers it is the boy he has to fight,
my poor Phedo will be cut to pieces in a twinkling. I do not believe
there has been any trouble yet, for the boy does not know that he is
to be one of the combatants, and the man would not be likely to
suspect it. Come what may, the fight must not take place for thirteen
years. And in order that I may still better preserve my health and
strength to avert the calamity during that period, I will increase my
number of chews to forty-two to each mouthful of meat."

When old Salim reached the city, he soon found that Alberdin and the
boy had been there, and that they had gone away together.

"Nothing has happened so far," said the old man, with a sigh of
relief; "and things may turn out all right yet. I'll follow them, but
I must first find out what that cavalryman had to say to the
Princess." For he had been told of the interview at the palace.

It was not long before the migratory medical man was brought to the
Princess. There was nothing the matter with her, but she liked to
meet with persons of skill and learning to hear what they had to say.

"Have you any specialty?" she asked of the old man.

"Yes," said he, "I am a germ-doctor."

"What is that?" asked the Princess.

"All diseases," replied the old man, "come from germs; generally very
little ones. My business is to discover these, and find out all about
them."

"Then I suppose," said the Princess, "you know how to cure the
diseases?"

"You must not expect too much," answered the old man. "It ought to be
a great satisfaction to us to know what sort of germ is at the bottom
of our woes."

"I am very well, myself," said the Princess, "and, so far as I know,
none of my household are troubled by germs. But there is something
the matter with my mind which I wish you could relieve." She then
told the old man how she had determined to marry the victor in the
contest for her father's throne, and how she had seen one for the
claimants whom she considered to be a very agreeable and deserving
young man; while the other, she had heard, was a great, strong foot
soldier, who was probably very disagreeable, and even horrid. If this
one should prove the conqueror, she did not know what she should do.
"You see, I am in a great deal of trouble," said she. "Can you do any
thing to help me?"

The pretending migratory medical man looked at her attentively for a
few moments, and then he said:

"The reason why you intend to marry the victor in the coming contest,
is that you wish to remain here in your father's palace, and to
continue to enjoy the comforts and advantages to which you have been
accustomed."

"Yes," said the Princess; "that is it."

"Well, having discovered the germ of your disorder," said the old
man, "the great point is gained. I will see what I can do."

And with a respectful bow he left her presence.

"Well," said old Salim to himself, as he went away, "she can never
marry my boy, for that is certainly out of the question; but now that
I have found out her motive, I think I can arrange matters
satisfactorily, so far as she is concerned. But to settle the affair
between that young man and Phedo is immensely more difficult. The
first thing is to find them."

Having learned the way they had gone, the old tutor travelled
diligently, and in two days came up with Alberdin and Phedo. When he
first caught sight of them, he was very much surprised to see that
they were resting upon the ground quite a long distance apart, with a
little stream between them. Noticing that Alberdin's back was toward
him, he threw off his disguise and hastened to Phedo. The boy
received him with the greatest delight, and, after many embraces,
they sat down to talk. Phedo told the old man all that had happened,
and finished by relating that, as they had that day stopped by this
stream to rest, Alberdin had taken it into his head to inquire into
the parentage of his young companion; and after many questions about
his family, it had been made clear to both of them that they were the
two third cousins who were to fight for the Autocracy of Mutjado.

"He is very angry," said the boy, "at the tricks that have been
played upon him, and went off and left me. Is it true that I am to
fight him? I don't want to do it, for I like him very much."

"It will be a long time before you are old enough to fight," said
Salim; "so we need not consider that. You stay here, and I'll go over
and talk to him."

Salim then crossed the stream, and approached Alberdin. When the
young man saw him, and recognized him as the person who had arranged
the two encampments, he turned upon him with fury.

"Wretched old man, who came to me as the emissary of my antagonist,
you are but the tutor of that boy! If I had known the truth at first,
I would have met him instantly; would have conquered him without
hurting a hair on his head; and carrying him bound to the capital
city, would have claimed the Autocracy, and would now have been
sitting upon the throne. Instead of that, look at the delay and
annoyance to which I have been subjected. I have also taken such a
fancy to the boy that rather than hurt him or injure his prospects, I
would willingly resign my pretensions to the throne, and go back
contentedly to my own city. But this cannot now be done. I have
fallen in love with the daughter of the late Autocrat, and she will
marry none but the victorious claimant. Behold to what a condition
you have brought me!"

The old man regarded him with attention.

"I wish very much," said he, "to defer the settlement of this matter
for thirteen years. Are you willing to wait so long?"

"No, I am not," said Alberdin.

"Very well, then," said the old man, "each third cousin must retire
to his camp, and as soon as matters can be arranged the battle must
take place."

"There is nothing else to be done," said Alberdin in a troubled
voice; "but I shall take care that the boy receives no injury if it
can possibly be avoided."

The three now retraced their steps, and in a few days were settled
down, Alberdin in his tent in the plain, and Salim and Phedo in their
intrenchments on the other side of the low mountain. The old man now
gave himself up to deep thought. He had discovered the germ of
Alberdin's trouble; and in a few days he had arranged his plans, and
went over to see the young man.

"It has been determined," said he, "that a syndicate is to be formed
to attend to this business for Phedo."

"A syndicate!" cried Alberdin. "What is that?"

"A syndic," answered Salim, "is a person who attends to business for
others; and a syndicate is a body of men who are able to conduct
certain affairs better than any individual can do it. In a week from
to-day, Phedo's syndicate will meet you in the large plain outside of
the capital city. There the contest will take place. Shall you be
ready?"

"I don't exactly understand it," said Alberdin, "but I shall be
there."

General notice was given of the coming battle of the contestants for
the throne, and thousands of the inhabitants of the Autocracy
assembled on the plain on the appointed day. The Princess with her
ladies was there; and as everybody was interested, everybody was
anxious to see what would happen.

Alberdin rode into the open space in the centre of the plain, and
demanded that his antagonist should appear. Thereupon old Salim came
forward, leading Phedo by the hand.

"This is the opposing heir," he said; "but as every one can see that
he is too young to fight a battle, a syndicate has been appointed to
attend to the matter for him; and there is nothing in the will of the
late Autocrat which forbids this arrangement. The syndicate will now
appear."

At this command there came into the arena a horseman heavily armed, a
tall foot soldier completely equipped for action, an artilleryman
with a small cannon on wheels, a sailor with a boarding-pike and a
drawn cutlass, and a soldier with a revolving gun which discharged
one hundred and twenty balls a minute.

"All being ready," exclaimed Salim, "the combat for the Autocracy
will begin!"

Alberdin took a good long look at the syndicate ranged before him.
Then he dismounted from his horse, drew his sword, and stuck it,
point downward, into the sand.

"I surrender!" he said.

"So do I!" cried the Princess, running toward him, and throwing
herself into his arms.

The eyes of Alberdin sparkled with joy.

"Let the Autocracy go!" he cried. "Now that I have my Princess, the
throne and the crown are nothing to me."

"So long as I have you," returned the Princess, "I am content to
resign all the comforts and advantages to which I have been
accustomed."

Phedo, who had been earnestly talking with his tutor, now looked up.

"You shall not resign any thing!" he cried. "We are all of the same
blood, and we will join together and form a royal family, and we will
all live at the palace. Alberdin and my tutor shall manage the
government for me until I am grown up; and if I have to go to school
for a few years, I suppose I must. And that is all there is about
it!"

The syndicate was now ordered to retire and disband; the heralds
proclaimed Phedo the conquering heir, and the people cheered and
shouted with delight. All the virtues of the late Autocrat had come
to him from his mother, and the citizens of Mutjado much preferred to
have a new ruler from the mother's family.

"I hope you bear no grudge against me," said Salim to Alberdin; "but
if you had been willing to wait for thirteen years, you and Phedo
might have fought on equal terms. As it is now, it would have been as
hard for him to conquer you, as for you to conquer the syndicate. The
odds would have been quite as great."

"Don't mention it," said Alberdin. "I prefer things as they are. I
should have hated to drive the boy away, and deprive him of a
position which the people wish him to have. Now we are all
satisfied."

Phedo soon began to show signs that he would probably make a very
good Autocrat. He declared that if he was to be assisted by ministers
and cabinet officers when he came to the throne, he would like them
to be persons who had been educated for their positions, just as he
was to be educated for his own. Consequently he chose for the head of
his cabinet a bright and sensible boy, and had him educated as a
Minister of State. For Minister of Finance, he chose another boy with
a very honest countenance, and for the other members of his cabinet,
suitable youths were selected. He also said, that he thought there
ought to be another officer, one who would be a sort of Minister of
General Comfort, who would keep an eye on the health and happiness of
the subjects, and would also see that every thing went all right in
the palace, not only in regard to meals, but lots of other things.
For this office he chose a bright young girl, and had her educated
for the position of Queen.





 THE BANISHED KING.

       *       *       *       *       *

There was once a kingdom in which every thing seemed to go wrong.
Everybody knew this, and everybody talked about it, especially the
King. The bad state of affairs troubled him more than it did any one
else, but he could think of no way to make them better.

"I cannot bear to see things going on so badly," he said to the Queen
and his chief councillors. "I wish I knew how other kingdoms were
governed."

One of his councillors offered to go to some other countries, and see
how they were governed, and come back and tell him all about it, but
this did not suit his majesty.

"You would simply return," he said, "and give me your ideas about
things. I want my own ideas."

The Queen then suggested that he should take a vacation, and visit
other kingdoms, and see for himself how things were managed in them.

This did not suit the king. "A vacation would not answer," he said.
"I should not be gone a week before something would happen here which
would make it necessary for me to come back."

The Queen then suggested that he be banished for a certain time, say
a year. In that case he could not come back, and would be at full
liberty to visit foreign kingdoms, and find out how they were
governed.

This plan pleased the King. "If it were made impossible for me to
come back," he said, "of course I could not do it. The scheme is a
good one. Let me be banished." And he gave orders that his council
should pass a law banishing him for one year.

Preparations were immediately begun to carry out this plan, and in
day or two the King bade farewell to the Queen, and left his kingdom,
a banished man. He went away on foot, entirely unattended. But, as he
did not wish to cut off all communication between himself and his
kingdom, he made an arrangement which he thought a very good one. At
easy shouting distance behind him walked one of the officers of the
court, and at shouting distance behind him walked another, and so on
at distances of about a hundred yards from each other. In this way
there would always be a line of men extending from the King to his
palace. Whenever the King had walked a hundred yards the line moved
on after him, and another officer was put in the gap between the last
man and the palace door. Thus, as the King walked on, his line of
followers lengthened, and was never broken. Whenever he had any
message to send to the Queen, or any other person in the palace, he
shouted it to the officer next him, who shouted it to the one next to
him, and it was so passed on until it reached the palace. If he
needed food, clothes, or any other necessary thing, the order for it
was shouted along the line, and the article was passed to him from
man to man, each one carrying it forward to his neighbor, and then
retiring to his proper place.

In this way the King walked on day by day until he had passed
entirely out of his own kingdom. At night he stopped at some
convenient house on the road, and if any of his followers did not
find himself near a house or cottage when the King shouted back the
order to halt, he laid himself down to sleep wherever he might be. By
this time the increasing line of followers had used up all the
officers of the court, and it became necessary to draw upon some of
the under government officers in order to keep the line perfect.

The King had not gone very far outside the limits of his dominions
when he met a Sphinx. He had often heard of these creatures, although
he had never seen one before. But when he saw the winged body of a
lion with a woman's head, he knew instantly what it was. He knew,
also, that the chief business of a Sphinx was that of asking people
questions, and then getting them into trouble if the right answers
were not given. He therefore determined that he would not be caught
by any such tricks as these, and that he would be on his guard if the
Sphinx spoke to him. The creature was lying down when the King first
saw it, but when he approached nearer it rose to its feet. There was
nothing savage about its look, and the King was not at all afraid.

"Where are you going?" said the Sphinx to him, in a pleasant voice.

"Give it up," replied the King.

"What do you mean by that?" said the other, with an air of surprise.

"I give that up, too," said the King.

The Sphinx then looked at him quite astonished.

"I don't mind telling you," said the King, "of my own free will, and
not in answer to any questions, that I do not know where I am going.
I am a King, as you may have noticed, and I have been banished from
my kingdom for a year. I am now going to look into the government of
other countries in order that I may find out what it is that is wrong
in my own kingdom. Every thing goes badly, and there is something
very faulty at the bottom of it all. What this is I want to
discover."

"I am much interested in puzzles and matters of that kind," said the
Sphinx, "and if you like I will go with you and help to find out what
is wrong in your kingdom."

"All right," said the King. "I shall be glad of your company."

"What is the meaning of this long line of people following you at
regular distances?" asked the Sphinx.

"Give it up," said the King.

The Sphinx laughed.

"I don't mind telling you," said the King, "of my own free will, and
not in answer to any question, that these men form a line of
communication between me and my kingdom, where matters, I fear, must
be going on worse than ever, in my absence."

The two now travelled on together until they came to a high hill,
from which they could see, not very far away, a large city.

"That city," said the Sphinx, "is the capital of an extensive
country. It is governed by a king of mingled sentiments. Suppose we
go there. I think you will find a government that is rather
peculiar."

The King consented, and they walked down the hill toward the city.

"How did the King get his sentiments mingled?" asked the King.

"I really don't know how it began," said the Sphinx, "but the King,
when a young man, had so many sentiments of different kinds, and he
mingled them up so much, that no one could ever tell exactly what he
thought on any particular subject. Of course, his people gradually
got into the same frame of mind, and you never can know in this
kingdom exactly what people think or what they are going to do. You
will find all sorts of people here: giants, dwarfs, fairies, gnomes,
and personages of that kind, who have been drawn here by the mingled
sentiments of the people. I, myself, came into these parts because
the people every now and then take a great fancy to puzzles and
riddles."

On entering the city, the King was cordially welcomed by his brother
sovereign, to whom he told his story; and he was lodged in a room in
the palace. Such of his followers as came within the limits of the
city were entertained by the persons near to whose houses they found
themselves when the line halted.

Every day the Sphinx went with him to see the sights of this strange
city. They took long walks through the streets, and sometimes into
the surrounding country--always going one way and returning another,
the Sphinx being very careful never to bring the King back by the
same road or street by which they went. In this way the King's line
of followers, which, of course, lengthened out every time he took a
walk, came to be arranged in long loops through many parts of the
city and suburbs.

Many of the things the King saw showed plainly the mingled sentiments
of the people. For instance, he would one day visit a great smith's
shop, where heavy masses of iron were being forged, the whole place
resounding with tremendous blows from heavy hammers, and the clank
and din of iron on the anvils; while the next day he would find the
place transformed into a studio, where the former blacksmith was
painting dainty little pictures on the delicate surface of
egg-shells. The king of the country, in his treatment of his visitor,
showed his peculiar nature very plainly. Sometimes he would receive
him with enthusiastic delight, while at others he would upbraid him
with having left his dominions to go wandering around the earth in
this senseless way. One day his host invited him to attend a royal
dinner, but, when he went to the grand dining-hall, pleased with
anticipations of a splendid feast, he found that the sentiments of
his majesty had become mingled, and that he had determined, instead
of having a dinner, to conduct the funeral services of one of his
servants who had died the day before. All the guests were obliged by
politeness to remain during the ceremonies, which our King, not
having been acquainted with the deceased servant, had not found at
all interesting.

"Now," said the King to the Sphinx, "I am in favor of moving on. I am
tired of this place, where every sentiment is so mingled with others
that you can never tell what anybody really thinks or feels. I don't
believe any one in this country was ever truly glad or sorry. They
mix one sentiment so quickly with another that they never can
discover the actual ingredients of any of their impulses."

"When this King first began to mingle his sentiments," said the
Sphinx, "it was because he always desired to think and feel exactly
right. He did not wish his feelings to run too much one way or the
other."

"And so he is never either right or wrong," said the King. "I don't
like that, at all. I want to be one thing or the other."

"I have wasted a good deal of time at this place," remarked the King,
as they walked on, "and I have seen and heard nothing which I wish to
teach my people. But I must find out some way to prevent every thing
going wrong in my kingdom. I have tried plan after plan, and
sometimes two or three together, and have kept this up year after
year, and yet nothing seems to do my kingdom any good."

"Have you heard how things are going on there now?" asked the Sphinx.

"Give it up," said the King. "But I don't mind saying of my own
accord, and not as answer to any question, that I have sent a good
many communications to my Queen, but have never received any from
her. So I do not know how things are going on in my kingdom."

They then travelled on, the long line of followers coming after,
keeping their relative positions a hundred yards apart, and passing
over all the ground the King had traversed in his circuitous walks
about the city. Thus the line crept along like an enormous snake in
straight lines, loops, and coils; and every time the King walked a
hundred yards a fresh man from his capital city was obliged to take
his place at the tail of the procession.

"By the way," said the Sphinx, after they had walked an hour or more,
"if you want to see a kingdom where there really is something to
learn, you ought to go to the country of the Gaumers, which we are
now approaching."

"All right," said the King. "Let us go there."

In the course of the afternoon they reached the edge of a high bluff.
"On the level ground, beneath this precipice," said the Sphinx, "is
the country of the dwarfs called Gaumers. You can sit on the edge of
the bluff and look down upon it."

The King and the Sphinx then sat down, and looked out from the edge
over the country of the little people. The officer of the court who
had formed the head of the line wished very much to see what they
were looking at, but, when the line halted, he was not near enough.

"You will notice," said the Sphinx, "that the little houses and huts
are gathered together in clusters. Each one of these clusters is
under a separate king."

"Why don't they all live under one ruler?" asked the King. "That is
the proper way."

"They do not think so," said the Sphinx. "In each of these clusters
live the Gaumers who are best suited to each other; and, if any
Gaumer finds he cannot get along in one cluster, he goes to another.
The kings are chosen from among the very best of them, and each one
is always very anxious to please his subjects. He knows that every
thing that he, and his queen, and his children eat, or drink, or
wear, or have must be given to him by his subjects, and if it were
not for them he could not be their ruler. And so he does every thing
that he can to make them happy and contented, for he knows if he does
not please them and govern them well, they will gradually drop off
from him and go to other clusters, and he will be left without any
people or any kingdom."

"That is a very queer way of ruling," said the King. "I think the
people ought to try to please their sovereign."

"He is only one, and they are a great many," said the Sphinx.
"Consequently they are much more important. No subject is ever
allowed to look down upon a king, simply because he helps to feed and
clothe him, and send his children to school. If any one does a thing
of this kind, he is banished until he learns better."

"All that may be very well for Gaumers," said the King, "but I can
learn nothing from a government like that, where every thing seems to
be working in an opposite direction from what everybody knows is
right and proper. A king anxious to deserve the good opinion of his
subjects! What nonsense! It ought to be just the other way. The ideas
of this people are as dwarfish as their bodies."

The King now arose and took up the line of march, turning away from
the country of the Gaumers. But he had not gone more than two or
three hundred yards before he received a message from the Queen. It
came to him very rapidly, every man in the line seeming anxious to
shout it to the man ahead of him as quickly as possible. The message
was to the effect that he must either stop where he was or come home:
his constantly lengthening line of communication had used up all the
chief officers of the government, all the clerks in the departments,
and all the officials of every grade, excepting the few who were
actually needed to carry on the government, and if any more men went
into the line it would be necessary to call upon the laborers and
other persons who could not be spared.

"I think," said the Sphinx, "that you have made your line long
enough."

"And I think," said the King. "that you made it a great deal longer
than it need to have been, by taking me about in such winding ways."

"It may be so," said the Sphinx, with its mystic smile.

"Well, I am not going to stop here," said the King, "and so I might
as well go back as soon as I can." And he shouted to the head man of
the line to pass on the order that his edict of banishment be
revoked.

In a very short time the news came that the edict was revoked. The
King then commanded that the procession return home, tail-end
foremost. The march was at once begun, each man, as he reached the
city, going immediately to his home and family.

The King and the greater part of the line had a long and weary
journey, as they followed each other through the country and over the
devious ways in which the Sphinx had led them in the City of Mingled
Sentiments. The King was obliged to pursue all these complicated
turnings, or be separated from his officers, and so break up his
communication with his palace. The Sphinx accompanied him.

When at last, he reached his palace, his line of former followers
having apparently melted entirely away, he hurried up-stairs to the
Queen, leaving the Sphinx in the court-yard.

The King found, when he had time to look into the affairs of his
dominions, that every thing was in the most admirable condition. The
Queen had retained a few of the best officials to carry on the
government, and had ordered the rest to fall, one by one, into the
line of communication. The King set himself to work to think about
the matter. It was not long before he came to the conclusion that the
main thing which had been wrong in his kingdom was himself. He was so
greatly impressed with this idea that he went down to the court-yard
to speak to the Sphinx about it.

"I dare say you are right," said the Sphinx, "and I don't wonder that
what you learned when you were away, and what you have seen since you
came back, have made you feel certain that you were the cause of
every thing going wrong in this kingdom. And now, what do you intend
to do about your government?"

"Give it up," promptly replied the King.

"That is exactly what I should advise," said the Sphinx.

The King did give up his kingdom. He was convinced that being a King
was exactly the thing he was not suited for, and that he would get on
much better in some other business or profession. He determined to be
a traveller and explorer, and to go abroad into other countries to
find out things that might be useful to his own nation. His Queen had
shown that she could govern the country most excellently, and it was
not at all necessary for him to stay at home. She had ordered all the
men who had made up his line to follow the King's example and to go
into some good business; in order that not being bothered with so
many officers, she would be able to get along quite easily.

The King was very successful in his new pursuit, and although he did
not this time have a line of followers connecting him with the
palace, he frequently sent home messages which were of use and value
to his nation.

"I may as well retire," said the Sphinx to itself. "As the King has
found his vocation and every thing is going all right it is not
necessary I should remain where I may be looked upon as a
questionable personage."





 THE PHILOPENA.

       *       *       *       *       *

There were once a Prince and a Princess who, when quite young, ate a
philopena together. They agreed that the one who, at any hour after
sunrise the next day, should accept any thing from the other--the
giver at the same time saying "Philopena!"--should be the loser, and
that the loser should marry the other.

They did not meet as soon as they had expected the next day; and at
the time our story begins, many years had elapsed since they had seen
each other, and the Prince and the Princess were nearly grown up.
They often thought of the philopena they had eaten together, and
wondered if they should know each other when they met. He remembered
her as a pretty little girl dressed in green silk and playing with a
snow-white cat; while she remembered him as a handsome boy, wearing a
little sword, the handle of which was covered with jewels. But they
knew that each must have changed a great deal in all this time.

Neither of these young people had any parents; the Prince lived with
guardians and the Princess with uncles.

The guardians of the Prince were very enterprising and energetic men,
and were allowed to govern the country until the Prince came of age.
The capital city was a very fine city when the old king died; but the
guardians thought it might be much finer, so they set to work with
all their might and main to improve it. They tore down old houses and
made a great many new streets; they built grand and splendid bridges
over the river on which the city stood; they constructed aqueducts to
bring water from streams many miles away; and they were at work all
the time upon some extensive building enterprise.

The Prince did not take much interest in the works which were going
on under direction of his guardians; and when he rode out, he
preferred to go into the country or to ride through some of the
quaint old streets, where nothing had been changed for hundreds of
years.

The uncles of the Princess were very different people from the
guardians of the Prince. There were three of them, and they were very
quiet and cosey old men, who disliked any kind of bustle or
disturbance, and wished that every thing might remain as they had
always known it. It even worried them a little to find that the
Princess was growing up. They would have much preferred that she
should remain exactly as she was when they first took charge of her.
Then they never would have been obliged to trouble their minds about
any changes in the manner of taking care of her. But they did not
worry their minds very much, after all. They wished to make her
guardianship as little laborious or exhausting as possible, and so,
divided the work; one of them took charge of her education, another
of her food and lodging, and the third of her dress. The first sent
for teachers, and told them to teach her; the second had handsome
apartments prepared for her use, and gave orders that she should have
every thing she needed to eat and drink; while the third commanded
that she should have a complete outfit of new clothes four times a
year. Thus every thing went on very quietly and smoothly; and the
three uncles were not obliged to exhaust themselves by hard work.
There were never any new houses built in that city, and if any thing
had to be repaired, it was done with as little noise and dirt as
possible. The city and the whole kingdom were quiet and serene, and
the three uncles dozed away most of the day in three great
comfortable thrones.

Everybody seemed satisfied with this state of things except the
Princess. She often thought to herself that nothing would be more
delightful than a little noise and motion, and she wondered if the
whole world were as quiet as the city in which she lived. At last,
she became unable to bear the dreadful stillness of the place any
longer; but she could think of nothing to do but to go and try to
find the Prince with whom she had eaten a philopena. If she should
win, he must marry her; and then, perhaps, they could settle down in
some place where things would be bright and lively. So, early one
morning, she put on her white dress, and mounting her prancing black
horse, she rode away from the city. Only one person saw her go, for
nearly all the people were asleep.

About this time, the Prince made up his mind that he could no longer
stand the din and confusion, the everlasting up-setting and
setting-up in his native city. He would go away, and see if he could
find the Princess with whom he had eaten a philopena. If he should
win, she would be obliged to marry him; and then, perhaps, they could
settle down in some place where it was quiet and peaceful. So, on the
same morning in which the Princess rode away, he put on a handsome
suit of black clothes, and mounting a gentle white horse, he rode out
of the city. Only one person saw him go; for, even at that early
hour, the people were so busy that little attention was paid to his
movements.

About half way between these two cities, in a tall tower which stood
upon a hill, there lived an Inquisitive Dwarf, whose whole object in
life was to find out what people were doing and why they did it. From
the top of this tower he generally managed to see all that was going
on in the surrounding country; and in each of the two cities that
have been mentioned he had an agent, whose duty it was to send him
word, by means of carrier pigeons, whenever a new thing happened.
Before breakfast, on the morning when the Prince and Princess rode
away, a pigeon from the city of the Prince came flying to the tower
of the Inquisitive Dwarf.

"Some new building started, I suppose," said the Dwarf, as he took
the little roll of paper from under the pigeon's wing. "But no; it is
very different! 'The Prince has ridden away from the city alone, and
is travelling to the north.'"

But before he could begin to puzzle his brains about the meaning of
this departure, another pigeon came flying in from the city of the
Princess.

"Well!" cried the Dwarf, "this is amazing! It is a long time since I
have had a message from that city, and my agent has been drawing his
salary without doing any work. What possibly can have happened
there?"

When he read that the Princess had ridden alone from the city that
morning, and was travelling to the south, he was truly amazed.

"What on earth can it mean?" he exclaimed. "If the city of the Prince
were to the south of that of the Princess, then I might understand
it; for they would be going to see each other, and that would be
natural enough. But as his city is to the north of her city, they are
travelling in opposite directions. And what is the meaning of this? I
most certainly must find out."

The Inquisitive Dwarf had three servants whom he employed to attend
to his most important business. These were a Gryphoness, a Water
Sprite, and an Absolute Fool. This last one was very valuable; for
there were some things he would do which no one else would think of
attempting. The Dwarf called to him the Gryphoness, the oldest and
most discreet of the three, and told her of the departure of the
Princess.

"Hasten southward," he said, "as fast as you can, and follow her, and
do not return to me until you have found out why she left her city,
where she is going, and what she expects to do when she gets there.
Your appearance may frighten her; and, therefore, you must take with
you the Absolute Fool, to whom she will probably be willing to talk;
but you must see that every thing is managed properly."

Having despatched these two, the Inquisitive Dwarf then called the
Water Sprite, who was singing to herself at the edge of a fountain,
and telling her of the departure of the Prince, ordered her to follow
him, and not to return until she had found out why he left his city,
where he was going, and what he intended to do when he got there.

"The road to the north," he said, "lies along the river bank;
therefore, you can easily keep him company."

The Water Sprite bowed, and dancing over the dewy grass to the river,
threw herself into it. Sometimes she swam beneath the clear water;
sometimes she rose partly in the air, where she seemed like a little
cloud of sparkling mist borne onward by the wind; and sometimes she
floated upon the surface, her pale blue robes undulating with the
gentle waves, while her white hands and feet shone in the sun like
tiny crests of foam. Thus, singing to herself, she went joyously and
rapidly on, aided by a full, strong wind from the south. She did not
forget to glance every now and then upon the road which ran along the
river bank; and, in the course of the morning, she perceived the
Prince. He was sitting in the shade of a tree near the water's edge,
while his white horse was grazing near by.

The Water Sprite came very gently out of the river, and seating
herself upon the edge of the grassy bank, she spoke to him. The
Prince looked up in astonishment, but there was nothing in her
appearance to frighten him.

"I came," said the Water Sprite, "at the command of my master, to ask
you why you left your city, where you are going, and what you intend
to do when you get there."