blows. I was very young, and the sense
of outrage did not last, but the puzzle persisted, and Victoria's riper
philosophy was taxed to allay it. Waiting seemed the only thing, waiting
till I could fling my shoes at whom I would, and sit on my throne to
behold the bastinadoing of Krak. My mother told me that I must be an
obedient boy first. Well and good; but then why make me a king now? In
truth I was introduced over-early to the fictions of high policy. A king
without power seems to a child like a bird without wings; but a bird
without wings is a favourite device of statesmanship.

The matter did not stand even here. My kingship not only lacked the
positive advantages with which youthful imagination (aided by the
archbishop's pious hyperbole) had endowed it; it became in my eyes the
great and fertile source of all my discomfort, the parent of every
distasteful obligation, the ground on which all chosen pleasures were
refused. It was ever "Kings can not do this," or "Kings must do that,"
and the "this" was always sweet, the "that" repellent; in Krak's hands
monarchy became a cross between a treadmill and a strait-waistcoat.
"What's the use of being a king?" I dared once to cry to her.

"God did not make you a king for your own pleasure," returned Krak
solemnly. I recollect thinking that her remark must certainly be true,
yet wondering whether God quite realized how tiresome the position was.

It may be supposed that I had many advantages to counterbalance these
evils that pressed so hardly on me. I do not recollect being conscious
of them. Even my occasional parades in public, although they tickled my
vanity, were spoiled for me by the feeling that nobody would look at me
with admiration, envy, or even interest, if he knew the real state of
the case. I may observe that this reflection has not vanished with
infancy, but still is apt to assail me. Of course I was well fed, well
housed, and well, though firmly, treated. Alas, what we have not is more
to us than all we possess. I was thankful under protest; prohibitions
outweighed privileges. I have not the experience necessary for any
generalization, but my own childhood was not very happy.

A day comes into my mind almost as clear and distinct in memory as my
coronation day. I was nine years old, and went with my mother to pay a
visit to a nobleman of high rank. He had just married and brought to his
house a young American lady. We were welcomed, of course, with infini