self-will of the King than to the willingness of
parliament or the nation; and calling to mind all his own sufferings
growing out of that war, with all the calamities of his country; dim
impulses, such as those to which the regicide Ravaillae yielded, would
shoot balefully across the soul of the exile. But thrusting Satan behind
him, Israel vanquished all such temptations. Nor did these ever more
disturb him, after his one chance conversation with the monarch.

As he was one day gravelling a little by-walk, wrapped in thought, the
King turning a clump of bushes, suddenly brushed Israel's person.

Immediately Israel touched his hat--but did not remove it--bowed, and
was retiring; when something in his air arrested the King's attention.

"You ain't an Englishman,--no Englishman--no, no."

Pale as death, Israel tried to answer something; but knowing not what to
say, stood frozen to the ground.

"You are a Yankee--a Yankee," said the King again in his rapid and
half-stammering way.

Again Israel assayed to reply, but could not. What could he say? Could
he lie to a King?

"Yes, yes,--you are one of that stubborn race,--that very stubborn race.
What brought you here?"

"The fate of war, sir."

"May it please your Majesty," said a low cringing voice, approaching,
"this man is in the walk against orders. There is some mistake, may it
please your Majesty. Quit the walk, blockhead," he hissed at Israel.

It was one of the junior gardeners who thus spoke. It seems that Israel
had mistaken his directions that morning.

"Slink, you dog," hissed the gardener again to Israel; then aloud to the
King, "A mistake of the man, I assure your Majesty."

"Go you away--away with ye, and leave him with me," said the king.

Waiting a moment, till the man was out of hearing, the king again turned
upon Israel.

"Were you at Bunker Hill?--that bloody Bunker Hill--eh, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fought like a devil--like a very devil, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir."

"Helped flog--helped flog my soldiers?"

"Yes, sir; but very sorry to do it."

"Eh?--eh?--how's that?"

"I took it to be my sad duty, sir."

"Very much mistaken--very much mistaken, indeed. Why do ye sir me?--eh?
I'm your king--your king."

"Sir," said Israel firmly, but with deep respect, "I have no king."

The king darted his eye incensedly for a moment; but without quailing,
Israel, now that all was out, still stood with mute respect before him.
The king, turning sudd