nging my condition must be downward. A beggar is the
real king, and a king is but a beggar, for he holds his position by
the favour of others. You see, Flemming, anything a beggar gets is so
much to the good; and, as he has nothing to lose, not even his
head--for who would send a beggar to the block--he must needs be
therefore the most contented man on the face of the footstool."

"Oh, that's maybe true enough," replied Flemming, set in his own
notion notwithstanding it was the king who opposed him; "but look you,
what a scope a beggar has for envy, for there's nobody he meets that's
not better off than himself."

"You go to extremes, Flemming. An envious man is unhappy wherever you
place him; but I'm speaking of ordinary persons like ourselves, with
charity and good-will toward all their fellow-kind. That man, I say,
is happier as a beggar than as a king."

"Well, in so far as concerns myself, your majesty, I'd like to be
sure of a roof over my head when the rain's coming down, and of that a
beggar never can be. A king or a cobbler has a place to lay his head,
at any rate."

"Aye," admitted the king, "but sometimes that place is the block. To
tell you the truth, Flemming, I'm thinking of taking a week at the
begging myself. A poet should have practical knowledge of the subject
about which he writes. Give me a week on the road, Flemming, and I'll
pen you a poem on beggary that will get warmer praise from you than
this has had."

"I give your rhyming the very highest praise, and say that Gavin
Douglas himself might have been proud had he put those lines
together."

To this the king made no reply, and the cobbler, looking up at him,
saw that a frown marred his brow. Then he remembered, as usual a
trifle late, James's hatred of the Douglas name; a hatred that had
been honestly earned by the Earl of Angus, head of that clan. Flemming
was learning that it was as dangerous to praise, as to criticise a
king. With native caution however, the cobbler took no notice of his
majesty's displeasure, but added an amendment to his first statement.

"It would perhaps be more truthful to say that the verses are worthy
of Sir David Lyndsay. In fact, although Sir David is a greater poet
than Gavin Douglas, I doubt very much if in his happiest moments he
could have equalled 'The Beggar Man.'"

In mentioning Sir David Lyndsay, Flemming had named the king's
greatest friend, and the cobbler's desire to please could not have
escaped