to those who have
seen more of the wide world than themselves--a respect perhaps
heightened by the high rank of their princely guest, who was, however,
only a month or two older than Elfric.

As they heard of the marvels of London, and of the court, home and its
attractions seemed to become dim by comparison, and Elfric especially
longed to share such happiness.

Their father seemed to wish to change the conversation, as he asked the
prince whether he had been long in Mercia.

Edwy replied, "Nay, my host; this is almost my first day of perfect
freedom, and I only left London, and my uncle the king, a few days back.
Dunstan has gone down to Glastonbury, for which the Saints be thanked,
and I am released for a few days from poring over the musty old
manuscripts to which he dooms me."

"It is well, my prince, that you should have a preceptor so well
qualified to instruct you in the arts your great ancestor King Alfred so
nobly adorned."

"Ah yes, Alfred," said Edwy, yawning; "but you know we can't all be
saints or heroes like him: for my part, I sometimes wish he had never
lived."

The astonished looks of the company seemed to demand further explanation.

"Because it is always, 'Alfred did this,' and 'Alfred did that.' If I am
tired of '_hic, haec, hoc_,' I am told Alfred was never weary; if I
complain of a headache, Dunstan says Alfred never complained of pain or
illness, but bore all with heroic fortitude, and all the rest of it. If
I want a better dinner than my respected uncle gives us on fast days in
the palace, I am told Alfred never ate anything beyond a handful of
parched corn on such days; if I lose my temper, I am told Alfred never
lost his; and so on, till I get sick of his name; and here it greets me
in the woods of Mercia."

"I crave pardon, my liege," said Ella, who hardly knew whether to smile
or frown at the sarcastic petulance of his guest, who went on with a sly
smile--"And now old Dunstan does not know where I am. He left me with
a huge pile of books in musty Latin, or crabbed English, and I had to
read this and to write that, as if I were no prince, but a scrivener,
and had to get my living by my pen; but as soon as he was gone I had a
headache, and persuaded my venerable uncle the king, through the
physician, that I needed change of air."

"But what will Dunstan say?"

"Oh, he must fight it out with Sigebert the leech, and Sigebert knows
which side his bread is buttered."

The whole tone