be glad if my sister Faith will be companion
to me." And so it was arranged.

Just at that time the King was living in a palace among the hills. And
it was from thence the travelers were to leave. It was like a morning
in Wonderland. The great valley on which the palace looked down, and
along which the Princes were to travel, was that morning filled with
vapor. And the vapor lay, as far as the eye could reach, without a
break on its surface, or a ruffled edge, in the light of the rising
sun, like a sea of liquid silver. The hills that surrounded the palace
looked like so many giants sitting on the shores of a mighty sea. It
was into this sea the travelers had to descend. One by one, with their
companions, they bade the old King farewell. And then, stepping forth
from the palace gates and descending toward the valley, they
disappeared from view.

The country to which they were going lay many days' distance between
the Purple Mountains and the Green Sea. The road to it lay through
woods and stretches of corn and pasture land. It was Autumn. In every
field were reapers cutting or binding the corn. At every turn of the
road were wagons laden with sheaves. Then the scene changed. The land
became poor. The fields were covered with crops that were thin and
unripe. The people who passed on the road had a look of want on their
faces. The travelers passed on. Every eye was searching the horizon
for the first glimpse of the mountain peaks. In every heart was the
joyful hope of finding the Golden Age. Can you think what the joy of a
young student going for the first time to a university is? It was a
joy like his. While this joy was in their hearts, the road passed into
a mighty forest. And suddenly among the shadows of the trees a
miserable spectacle crossed their path. It was a crowd of peasants of
the very poorest class. A plague had fallen on their homes, and they
were fleeing from their village, which lay among the trees a mile or
two to the right.

Yestergold was the first to meet them. He was filled with anguish.
His sensitive nature could not bear to see suffering in others. He
shrank from the very sight of misery. Turning to his companions, he
said, "If the Lord of Life had been traveling on this road as He was on
that other, long ago, when the widow of Nain met Him with her dead son,
He would have destroyed the plague by a word." "Oh, holy and beautiful
Age!" exclaimed the poet, "why dost t