The Little Lame Prince

Prince, whom everybody seeme

een familiar with his sweet ways-these many a time sighed and said, "Poor Prince Dolor!" Or, looking at the Beautiful Mountains, which were

a patch of tiny flowers. Not a bush-not a tree not a resting place for bird or beast was in that dreary plain. In summer the sunshine fell upon it hour after hour with a blinding glare; in winter the

, as if it had grown of itself, like a mushroom. But it was not at all mushroom-like; on the contrary, it was very solidly built. In form it resembled the Irish round towers, which have puzzled people for so long, nobody being able to find out when, or by whom, or for what purpose they were made; seemingly for no use a

here except the still more desolate seacoast-nobody ever crossed it. Whatever mystery t

of. How he carried it out, undiscovered, I cannot tell. People said, long afterward, that it was by means of a gang of condemned criminals

ct had planned a perfect little house, divided into four rooms-as by drawing a cross within a circle you will see might easily be done. By making skylights, and a few slits in the walls f

f you once got up there,-and n

side it was furnished with all the comfort and elegance imaginable; with lots of books and toys, and everything th

ld. The woman-she had a sad, fierce look, and no wonder, for she was a criminal under sentence of death, but her sentence had been changed to almost as severe a punishment. She was to inhabit the lonely tower wi

ch held tight to the man's neck, for he was rather frightened, and the face, black as it was, looked kindly at him. And he was very

having been put in his place, while he himself was spirited away under charge of these two, the conde

ieces like a puzzle, fitted it together, and lifted it up to meet the chain. Then he mounted to the top of the tower, and slung from it a sort of chair, in which the woman and the child placed themselves and wer

foot of the tower, and climbed it, as before, laden with provisions and many other things. He always saw th

having known, he did not miss. His nurse was very kind to him though she was a wicked woman. But either she had not been quite so wicked as people said,

parlor, kitchen, his nurse's bedroom, and his own; learned to crawl like a fly, and to jump like a frog, and to run about on all-fours almost as fa

however, much bigger than they looked from the bottom of the tower-and watch the sky above and the ground below, with the

herself. She was not a stupid woman, and Prince Dolor was by no means a stupid boy; so they got on very well, and his

boy, and could read quite easily. Then he suddenly took to books, which the deaf-mute brought him from time to time-books which, not being acquainted with the literature of No

ng. For his nurse hardly spoke, and whatever questions he asked beyond their ordinary daily life she never answered. She

and "Your Royal Highness," but what a prince was he had not the least idea.

ad about things which you never can see is like hearing about a beautiful dinner while you are starving. For almost the first time in his life he grew melancholy; his h

r down to the plain, how nice it would be! Perhaps when he died-his nurse had told him once in anger that he would never leave the tower till he

t-about that and many other things; somebody that

life, had been a little white kitten, which the deaf-mute, kindly smiling, once too

climbed on to the parapet of the tower, dropped over and disappeared. It was not killed, he hoped, for cats have n

rson, a real live person, who would be fond of me and

ap-tap-tap, as of a stick or a cane, and twistin

like those of other children; but she was not a child-she was an old woman. Her hair was gray, and her dress was gray, and there was a gray sh

her, she laid those two tiny hands on his shoulders,-"my own little boy, I could n

id in books; "and I am exceedingly obliged to you. May I ask who you are? Perhaps my mother?" For he

om his forehead, and looking right into his eyes-"no, I am not your mother, tho

her to come and

ou. And she loves you very much-and so do I; and

poor?" asked Princ

hen at his sweet, bright face, which, though he knew not that either, was exceedingly different from many children's faces, whic

my name is Dolor; will

n laughed like a ch

don't know which to choose. However, it was I who gave you your

glad I belong to you, for I like you ve

her and played. By and

l here?" asked th

have plenty to eat and drink, and my lesson

u want

please, godmother, could you

ort of

boy to p

I which I cannot give you. My child, I cannot alter

you talk of bearing it?

d woman in the very tenderest ton

g?" asked the w

es. By and by he kissed her back again-at first awkwardly an

n my white kitten, I think. Promis

good as myself to amuse you,-something that will take you wh

t is

veling

out. Sometimes nurse hoists me on to the roof, and carries me round b

should ride; and beside

she's c

r a heavy step and a grumpy voice,

but I don't want dinner at all-I only want yo

and bars in the world couldn't keep me out. I'd fly in at the w

and his godmother-what would they say to one another? how would they look at one another?-two such different faces: o

gain, he saw he need fear nothing-his lovely old godmother had melted away just like the rai

he sharply. "Such a heap of untidy books; and what's this

pushed it quickly into his pocket. Rubbish as it was, it was left in the place where she sat, and might be someth

not know this, his won