habits of this illustrious being were singular, and his tendency
to make odd quotations, which were not always particularly relevant,
was not the least surprising of his ways. In this last quotation Mrs.
Russell found several objectionable expressions; but on the whole the
idea was a flattering one, for the subject of the narrative was
represented as "marrying a widow;" and this little circumstance was
taken as a fresh proof of "His Majesty's" devotion.

"Yez mustn't think," continued "His Majesty," "that there's any lack
av our r'y'l attintion to yez because yez haven't got much to brag av
in the way av food; begorra! I'm in the same box mesilf, an' it isn't
much at all at all I can get here except mutton, an' it's mesilf that
'ud give all the mutton in Spain for a bit av a pratie. Howandiver, I
hope to get some fish by to-morrow mornin'. If we could only get a
taste av a few praties there'd be nothin' wantin'; for--

"'It's little I axes,
Au' little I wish;
If others want luxuries, let them;
For praties and fish
Make an illigant dish,
If ye only have whiskey to wet them.'"

These and other cheerful remarks of a general nature were addressed
by "His Majesty" to the company at large. It is true, the royal eye
was fixed exclusively on Katie, and therefore the royal remarks were
probably so many efforts to do the agreeable to her. But that young
lady persistently evaded the royal eye; and as Dolores was
disregarded altogether, it was natural enough that Mrs. Russell
should appropriate all the royal remarks and make the necessary
replies.

"Ah, sire! your 'Royal Majesty' is so very funny! Are all the crowned
heads thus?"

"All av thim--ivery mother's son av thim. An' they're an illigant
lot. But moind this--it's mesilf that bates the whole lot,
out-an'-out. Ye know, I'm not only King av Spain, but heir to the
crown av France."

"Is it possible?" said Mrs. Russell.

"Divil a loie I'm tellin'," said "His Majesty." "It's thrue, so it
is. I'm nixt av kin to Heuri Cinq--that's Chambord, ye know. The Count
av Paris is Orleans, not Bourbon. I'm Bourbon, begorra! An' whin
Chambord doies, an' the nixt revolution takes place in France, I'll
march on Paris an' give pace to that unhappy counthry. An', be
jabers! I'll take me wife wid me, an' we'll live in Paris, an' I'll
get her the most illigant dhresses, an' coort coschumes, an' bonnets,
an' boots, an' laces, an' gims, an' jools, that iver any woman w