ort and royal rags!"

With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body and did
mock homage to their prey. The prince spurned the nearest boy with his
foot, and said fiercely--

"Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!"

Ah, but this was not a joke--this was going beyond fun. The laughter
ceased on the instant, and fury took its place. A dozen shouted--

"Hale him forth! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond! Where be the
dogs? Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!"

Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before--the sacred
person of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, and
set upon and torn by dogs.

As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far down in
the close-built portion of the city. His body was bruised, his hands
were bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He wandered on
and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired and faint he
could hardly drag one foot after the other. He had ceased to ask
questions of anyone, since they brought him only insult instead of
information. He kept muttering to himself, "Offal Court--that is the
name; if I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent and I drop,
then am I saved--for his people will take me to the palace and prove that
I am none of theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have mine own
again." And now and then his mind reverted to his treatment by those
rude Christ's Hospital boys, and he said, "When I am king, they shall not
have bread and shelter only, but also teachings out of books; for a full
belly is little worth where the mind is starved, and the heart. I will
keep this diligently in my remembrance, that this day's lesson be not
lost upon me, and my people suffer thereby; for learning softeneth the
heart and breedeth gentleness and charity." {1}

The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain, the wind rose, and a raw
and gusty night set in. The houseless prince, the homeless heir to the
throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into the maze of
squalid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and misery were massed
together.

Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said--

"Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a farthing home, I
warrant me! If it be so, an' I do not break all the bones in thy lean
body, then am I not John Canty, but some other."

The prince twisted himself loose, unconsci