he source from which his subjects
received all their strength and power.

Therefore he must know all their griefs--he must lend an open ear to all
their demands.

His first command was, that any one who asked for an interview should
be admitted. And when one of his ministers dared to express his
astonishment at this order. "It is the duty of a king," said Frederick,
"to listen to the request of the most insignificant of his subjects.
I am a regent for the purpose of making my people happy. I do not dare
close my ears to their complaints." And he listened sympathizingly to
the sorrows of his people, and his whole mind and thoughts were given to
obtain their alleviation. He was always willing to aid with his counsel
and his strength. Untiring in the work, he read every letter, every
petition, and examined every answer which was written by his cabinet
council. He and he alone, was the soul of his government.

A new life began to reign in this land, of which he was the soul. He
worked more than all of his ministers or servants, and music and science
were his only pleasure and recreation. He was a hero in peace as well
as in war. He did not require, as others do, the distraction of gay
pleasures. Study was his chief recreation--conversation with his friends
was his greatest pleasure. Even the hunt, the so-called "knightly
pleasure," had no charms for him.

"Hunting," said the king, "is one of the senseless pleasures which
excites the body but leaves the mind unemployed. We are more cruel than
the wild beasts themselves. He who can murder an innocent animal in
cold blood, would find it impossible to show mercy to his fellow-man.
Is hunting a proper employment for a thinking creature? A gentleman who
hunts can only be forgiven if he does so rarely, and then to distract
his thoughts from sad and earnest business matters. It would be wrong
to deny sovereigns all relaxation, but is there a greater pleasure for
a monarch than to rule well, to enrich his state, and to advance all
useful sciences and arts? He who requires other enjoyments is to be
pitied."

CHAPTER V. THE ENGRAVED CUP.

Princess Amelia was alone in her boudoir--she was ever alone. She lay
upon the sofa, gazed at the ceiling, and in utter despair reflected upon
her miserable fate. For years she had looked anxiously forward to the
conclusion of this unhappy war in which Austria and Prussia were so
fiercely opposed. So long as they were active enemies, T