ken, conveyed in a
litter to Leith, and from there shipped to France. But it was many a
day before the Scottish nobles ceased to deplore the untimely
departure of their gold-maker.

[Illustration: "THE KING HAD COMPOSED A POEM IN THIRTEEN STANZAS,
ENTITLED 'THE BEGGAR MAN.'"]

THE KING A-BEGGING

Literary ambition has before now led men into difficulties. The king
had completed a poem in thirteen stanzas entitled "The Beggar Man,"
and the prime requisite of a completed poem is an audience to listen
to it. In spite of the fact that he wrote poetry, the king was a
sensible person, and he knew that if he read his verses to the court,
the members thereof were not the persons to criticise adequately the
merits of such a composition; for you cannot expect a high noble, who,
if he ever notices a beggar, merely does so to throw a curse at him,
or lay the flat of his sword over his shoulders, to appreciate an epic
which celebrates the free life led by a mendicant.

The king was well aware that he would receive ample praise for his
production; king's goods are ever the best in the market, and though,
like every other literary man, it was praise and not criticism that
James wanted, still he preferred to have such praise from the lips of
one who knew something of the life he tried to sing; therefore, as
evening came on, the monarch dressed himself in his farmer costume,
and, taking his thirteen stanzas with him, ventured upon a cautious
visit to his friend the cobbler in the lower town of Stirling.

The cobbler listened with an attention which was in itself flattering,
and paid his royal visitor the additional compliment of asking him to
repeat certain of the verses, which the king in his own heart thought
were the best. Then when the thirteenth stanza was arrived at, with
the "No-that-bad" commendation, which is dear to the heart of the
chary Scotchman, be he of high or low degree, Flemming continued,--

"They might be worse, and we've had many a poet of great reputation in
Scotland who would not be ashamed to father them. But I'm thinking you
paint the existence of a beggar in brighter colours than the life
itself warrants."

"No, no, Flemming," protested the king earnestly. "I'm convinced that
only the beggar knows what true contentment is. You see he begins at
the very bottom of the ladder and every step he takes must be a step
upward. Now imagine a man at the top, like myself; any move I make in
the way of cha