he house. Sir Oliver, with his hat in his hand, stood at the gate
to receive the king. His Majesty was dressed in a suit of green, not very
new; he had a feather in his hat, and a triple ruff round his neck; and
over his shoulder was slung a hunting horn, instead of a sword.
Altogether, he had not the most dignified aspect in the world; but the
spectators gazed at him as if there was something superhuman and divine in
his person. They even shaded their eyes with their hands, as if they were
dazzled by the glory of his countenance.

"How are ye, man?" cried King James, speaking in a Scotch accent; for
Scotland was his native country. "By my crown, Sir Oliver, but I am glad
to see ye!"

The good knight thanked the king, at the same time kneeling down, while
his Majesty alighted. When King James stood on the ground, he directed Sir
Oliver's attention to a little boy, who had come with him in the coach. He
was six or seven years old, and wore a hat and feather, and was more
richly dressed than the king himself. Though by no means an ill-looking
child; he seemed shy, or even sulky; and his cheeks were rather pale, as
if he had been kept moping within doors, instead of being sent out to play
in the sun and wind.

"I have brought my son Charlie to see ye," said the king. "I hope, Sir
Oliver, ye have a son of your own, to be his playmate?"

Sir Oliver Cromwell made a reverential bow to the little prince, whom one
of the attendants had now taken out of the coach. It was wonderful to see
how all the spectators, even the aged men, with their gray beards, humbled
themselves before this child. They bent their bodies till their beards
almost swept the dust. They looked as if they were ready to kneel down and
worship him.

The poor little prince! From his earliest infancy not a soul had dared to
contradict him; everybody around him had acted as if he were a superior
being; so that, of course, he had imbibed the same opinion of himself. He
naturally supposed that the whole kingdom of Great Britain and all its
inhabitants, had been created solely for his benefit and amusement. This
was a sad mistake; and it cost him dear enough after he had ascended his
father's throne.

"What a noble little prince he is!" exclaimed Sir Oliver, lifting his
hands in admiration. "No, please your Majesty, I have no son to be the
playmate of his Royal Highness; but there is a nephew of mine, somewhere
about the house. He is near the prince's age, and