









	
	
	
	
	
	                     THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
	
	                          by Mark Twain
	
	                             Part 1.
	
	
	
	Hugh Latimer	 Bishop of Worcester	 to Lord Cromwell	 on the birth of the
	Prince of Wales (afterward Edward VI.).
	
	From the National Manuscripts preserved by the British Government.
	
	Ryght honorable	 Salutem in Christo Jesu	 and Syr here ys no lesse joynge
	and rejossynge in thes partees for the byrth of our prynce	 hoom we
	hungurde for so longe	 then ther was (I trow)	 inter vicinos att the
	byrth of S. J. Baptyste	 as thys berer	 Master Erance	 can telle you.
	Gode gyffe us alle grace	 to yelde dew thankes to our Lorde Gode	 Gode of
	Inglonde	 for verely He hathe shoyd Hym selff Gode of Inglonde	 or rather
	an Inglyssh Gode	 yf we consydyr and pondyr welle alle Hys procedynges
	with us from tyme to tyme.  He hath over cumme alle our yllnesse with Hys
	excedynge goodnesse	 so that we are now moor then compellyd to serve Hym	
	seke Hys glory	 promott Hys wurde	 yf the Devylle of alle Devylles be
	natt in us.  We have now the stooppe of vayne trustes ande the stey of
	vayne expectations; lett us alle pray for hys preservatione.  Ande I for
	my partt wylle wyssh that hys Grace allways have	 and evyn now from the
	begynynge	 Governares	 Instructores and offyceres of ryght jugmente	 ne
	optimum ingenium non optima educatione deprevetur.
	
	Butt whatt a grett fowlle am I!  So	 whatt devotione shoyth many tymys
	butt lytelle dyscretione!  Ande thus the Gode of Inglonde be ever with
	you in alle your procedynges.
	
	The 19 of October.
	
	Youres	 H. L. B. of Wurcestere	 now att Hartlebury.
	
	Yf you wolde excytt thys berere to be moore hartye ayen the abuse of
	ymagry or mor forwarde to promotte the veryte	 ytt myght doo goode.  Natt
	that ytt came of me	 butt of your selffe	 etc.
	
	(Addressed) To the Ryght Honorable Loorde P. Sealle hys synguler gode
	Lorde.
	
	
	
	To those good-mannered and agreeable children Susie and Clara Clemens
	this book is affectionately inscribed by their father.
	
	
	
	I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one who had it of his
	father	 which latter had it of HIS father	 this last having in like
	manner had it of HIS father--and so on	 back and still back	 three
	hundred years and more	 the fathers transmitting it to the sons and so
	preserving it.  It may be history	 it may be only a legend	 a tradition.
	It may have happened	 it may not have happened:  but it COULD have
	happened.  It may be that the wise and the learned believed it in the old
	days; it may be that only the unlearned and the simple loved it and
	credited it.
	
	
	
	
	Contents.
	
	I.      The birth of the Prince and the Pauper.
	II.     Tom's early life.
	III.    Tom's meeting with the Prince.
	IV.     The Prince's troubles begin.
	V.      Tom as a patrician.
	VI.     Tom receives instructions.
	VII.    Tom's first royal dinner.
	VIII.   The question of the Seal.
	IX.     The river pageant.
	X.      The Prince in the toils.
	XI.     At Guildhall.
	XII.    The Prince and his deliverer.
	XIII.   The disappearance of the Prince.
	XIV.    'Le Roi est mort--vive le Roi.'
	XV.     Tom as King.
	XVI.    The state dinner.
	XVII.   Foo-foo the First.
	XVIII.  The Prince with the tramps.
	XIX.    The Prince with the peasants.
	XX.     The Prince and the hermit.
	XXI.    Hendon to the rescue.
	XXII.   A victim of treachery.
	XXIII.  The Prince a prisoner.
	XXIV.   The escape.
	XXV.    Hendon Hall.
	XXVI.   Disowned.
	XXVII.  In prison.
	XXVIII. The sacrifice.
	XXIX.   To London.
	XXX.    Tom's progress.
	XXXI.   The Recognition procession.
	XXXII.  Coronation Day.
	XXXIII. Edward as King.
	Conclusion. Justice and Retribution.
	Notes.
	
	
	
	     'The quality of mercy . . . is twice bless'd;
	      It blesseth him that gives	 and him that takes;
	      'Tis mightiest in the mightiest:  it becomes
	      The thron-ed monarch better than his crown'.
	                                   Merchant of Venice.
	
	
	
	
	Chapter I. The birth of the Prince and the Pauper.
	
	In the ancient city of London	 on a certain autumn day in the second
	quarter of the sixteenth century	 a boy was born to a poor family of the
	name of Canty	 who did not want him.  On the same day another English
	child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor	 who did want him.
	All England wanted him too.  England had so longed for him	 and hoped for
	him	 and prayed God for him	 that	 now that he was really come	 the
	people went nearly mad for joy.  Mere acquaintances hugged and kissed
	each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday	 and high and low	 rich
	and poor	 feasted and danced and sang	 and got very mellow; and they kept
	this up for days and nights together.  By day	 London was a sight to see	
	with gay banners waving from every balcony and housetop	 and splendid
	pageants marching along.  By night	 it was again a sight to see	 with its
	great bonfires at every corner	 and its troops of revellers making merry
	around them.  There was no talk in all England but of the new baby	
	Edward Tudor	 Prince of Wales	 who lay lapped in silks and satins	
	unconscious of all this fuss	 and not knowing that great lords and ladies
	were tending him and watching over him--and not caring	 either.  But
	there was no talk about the other baby	 Tom Canty	 lapped in his poor
	rags	 except among the family of paupers whom he had just come to trouble
	with his presence.
	
	
	
	Chapter II. Tom's early life.
	
	Let us skip a number of years.
	
	London was fifteen hundred years old	 and was a great town--for that day.
	It had a hundred thousand inhabitants--some think double as many.  The
	streets were very narrow	 and crooked	 and dirty	 especially in the part
	where Tom Canty lived	 which was not far from London Bridge.  The houses
	were of wood	 with the second story projecting over the first	 and the
	third sticking its elbows out beyond the second.  The higher the houses
	grew	 the broader they grew.  They were skeletons of strong criss-cross
	beams	 with solid material between	 coated with plaster.  The beams were
	painted red or blue or black	 according to the owner's taste	 and this
	gave the houses a very picturesque look.  The windows were small	 glazed
	with little diamond-shaped panes	 and they opened outward	 on hinges	
	like doors.
	
	The house which Tom's father lived in was up a foul little pocket called
	Offal Court	 out of Pudding Lane.  It was small	 decayed	 and rickety	
	but it was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty's tribe
	occupied a room on the third floor.  The mother and father had a sort of
	bedstead in the corner; but Tom	 his grandmother	 and his two sisters	
	Bet and Nan	 were not restricted--they had all the floor to themselves	
	and might sleep where they chose.  There were the remains of a blanket or
	two	 and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw	 but these could not
	rightly be called beds	 for they were not organised; they were kicked
	into a general pile	 mornings	 and selections made from the mass at
	night	 for service.
	
	Bet and Nan were fifteen years old--twins.  They were good-hearted girls	
	unclean	 clothed in rags	 and profoundly ignorant.  Their mother was like
	them.  But the father and the grandmother were a couple of fiends.  They
	got drunk whenever they could; then they fought each other or anybody
	else who came in the way; they cursed and swore always	 drunk or sober;
	John Canty was a thief	 and his mother a beggar.  They made beggars of
	the children	 but failed to make thieves of them.  Among	 but not of	 the
	dreadful rabble that inhabited the house	 was a good old priest whom the
	King had turned out of house and home with a pension of a few farthings	
	and he used to get the children aside and teach them right ways secretly.
	Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin	 and how to read and write;
	and would have done the same with the girls	 but they were afraid of the
	jeers of their friends	 who could not have endured such a queer
	accomplishment in them.
	
	All Offal Court was just such another hive as Canty's house. Drunkenness	
	riot and brawling were the order	 there	 every night and nearly all night
	long.  Broken heads were as common as hunger in that place.  Yet little
	Tom was not unhappy.  He had a hard time of it	 but did not know it.  It
	was the sort of time that all the Offal Court boys had	 therefore he
	supposed it was the correct and comfortable thing.  When he came home
	empty-handed at night	 he knew his father would curse him and thrash him
	first	 and that when he was done the awful grandmother would do it all
	over again and improve on it; and that away in the night his starving
	mother would slip to him stealthily with any miserable scrap or crust she
	had been able to save for him by going hungry herself	 notwithstanding
	she was often caught in that sort of treason and soundly beaten for it by
	her husband.
	
	No	 Tom's life went along well enough	 especially in summer.  He only
	begged just enough to save himself	 for the laws against mendicancy were
	stringent	 and the penalties heavy; so he put in a good deal of his time
	listening to good Father Andrew's charming old tales and legends about
	giants and fairies	 dwarfs and genii	 and enchanted castles	 and gorgeous
	kings and princes.  His head grew to be full of these wonderful things	
	and many a night as he lay in the dark on his scant and offensive straw	
	tired	 hungry	 and smarting from a thrashing	 he unleashed his
	imagination and soon forgot his aches and pains in delicious picturings
	to himself of the charmed life of a petted prince in a regal palace.  One
	desire came in time to haunt him day and night:  it was to see a real
	prince	 with his own eyes.  He spoke of it once to some of his Offal
	Court comrades; but they jeered him and scoffed him so unmercifully that
	he was glad to keep his dream to himself after that.
	
	He often read the priest's old books and got him to explain and enlarge
	upon them.  His dreamings and readings worked certain changes in him	
	by-and-by.  His dream-people were so fine that he grew to lament his shabby
	clothing and his dirt	 and to wish to be clean and better clad.  He went
	on playing in the mud just the same	 and enjoying it	 too; but	 instead
	of splashing around in the Thames solely for the fun of it	 he began to
	find an added value in it because of the washings and cleansings it
	afforded.
	
	Tom could always find something going on around the Maypole in Cheapside	
	and at the fairs; and now and then he and the rest of London had a chance
	to see a military parade when some famous unfortunate was carried
	prisoner to the Tower	 by land or boat. One summer's day he saw poor Anne
	Askew and three men burned at the stake in Smithfield	 and heard an
	ex-Bishop preach a sermon to them which did not interest him.  Yes	 Tom's
	life was varied and pleasant enough	 on the whole.
	
	By-and-by Tom's reading and dreaming about princely life wrought such a
	strong effect upon him that he began to ACT the prince	 unconsciously.
	His speech and manners became curiously ceremonious and courtly	 to the
	vast admiration and amusement of his intimates.  But Tom's influence
	among these young people began to grow now	 day by day; and in time he
	came to be looked up to	 by them	 with a sort of wondering awe	 as a
	superior being.  He seemed to know so much! and he could do and say such
	marvellous things! and withal	 he was so deep and wise!  Tom's remarks	
	and Tom's performances	 were reported by the boys to their elders; and
	these	 also	 presently began to discuss Tom Canty	 and to regard him as a
	most gifted and extraordinary creature.  Full-grown people brought their
	perplexities to Tom for solution	 and were often astonished at the wit
	and wisdom of his decisions.  In fact he was become a hero to all who
	knew him except his own family--these	 only	 saw nothing in him.
	
	Privately	 after a while	 Tom organised a royal court!  He was the
	prince; his special comrades were guards	 chamberlains	 equerries	 lords
	and ladies in waiting	 and the royal family.  Daily the mock prince was
	received with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from his romantic
	readings; daily the great affairs of the mimic kingdom were discussed in
	the royal council	 and daily his mimic highness issued decrees to his
	imaginary armies	 navies	 and viceroyalties.
	
	After which	 he would go forth in his rags and beg a few farthings	 eat
	his poor crust	 take his customary cuffs and abuse	 and then stretch
	himself upon his handful of foul straw	 and resume his empty grandeurs in
	his dreams.
	
	And still his desire to look just once upon a real prince	 in the flesh	
	grew upon him	 day by day	 and week by week	 until at last it absorbed
	all other desires	 and became the one passion of his life.
	
	One January day	 on his usual begging tour	 he tramped despondently up
	and down the region round about Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap	 hour
	after hour	 bare-footed and cold	 looking in at cook-shop windows and
	longing for the dreadful pork-pies and other deadly inventions displayed
	there--for to him these were dainties fit for the angels; that is	
	judging by the smell	 they were--for it had never been his good luck to
	own and eat one. There was a cold drizzle of rain; the atmosphere was
	murky; it was a melancholy day.  At night Tom reached home so wet and
	tired and hungry that it was not possible for his father and grandmother
	to observe his forlorn condition and not be moved--after their fashion;
	wherefore they gave him a brisk cuffing at once and sent him to bed.  For
	a long time his pain and hunger	 and the swearing and fighting going on
	in the building	 kept him awake; but at last his thoughts drifted away to
	far	 romantic lands	 and he fell asleep in the company of jewelled and
	gilded princelings who live in vast palaces	 and had servants salaaming
	before them or flying to execute their orders.  And then	 as usual	 he
	dreamed that HE was a princeling himself.
	
	All night long the glories of his royal estate shone upon him; he moved
	among great lords and ladies	 in a blaze of light	 breathing perfumes	
	drinking in delicious music	 and answering the reverent obeisances of the
	glittering throng as it parted to make way for him	 with here a smile	
	and there a nod of his princely head.
	
	And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon the wretchedness about
	him	 his dream had had its usual effect--it had intensified the
	sordidness of his surroundings a thousandfold.  Then came bitterness	 and
	heart-break	 and tears.
	
	
	
	Chapter III. Tom's meeting with the Prince.
	
	Tom got up hungry	 and sauntered hungry away	 but with his thoughts busy
	with the shadowy splendours of his night's dreams. He wandered here and
	there in the city	 hardly noticing where he was going	 or what was
	happening around him.  People jostled him	 and some gave him rough
	speech; but it was all lost on the musing boy.  By-and-by he found
	himself at Temple Bar	 the farthest from home he had ever travelled in
	that direction.  He stopped and considered a moment	 then fell into his
	imaginings again	 and passed on outside the walls of London.  The Strand
	had ceased to be a country-road then	 and regarded itself as a street	
	but by a strained construction; for	 though there was a tolerably compact
	row of houses on one side of it	 there were only some scattered great
	buildings on the other	 these being palaces of rich nobles	 with ample
	and beautiful grounds stretching to the river--grounds that are now
	closely packed with grim acres of brick and stone.
	
	Tom discovered Charing Village presently	 and rested himself at the
	beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days; then
	idled down a quiet	 lovely road	 past the great cardinal's stately
	palace	 toward a far more mighty and majestic palace beyond--Westminster.
	Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of masonry	 the wide-spreading
	wings	 the frowning bastions and turrets	 the huge stone gateway	 with
	its gilded bars and its magnificent array of colossal granite lions	 and
	other the signs and symbols of English royalty.  Was the desire of his
	soul to be satisfied at last?  Here	 indeed	 was a king's palace.  Might
	he not hope to see a prince now--a prince of flesh and blood	 if Heaven
	were willing?
	
	At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue--that is to say	 an
	erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms	 clad from head to heel in
	shining steel armour.  At a respectful distance were many country folk	
	and people from the city	 waiting for any chance glimpse of royalty that
	might offer.  Splendid carriages	 with splendid people in them and
	splendid servants outside	 were arriving and departing by several other
	noble gateways that pierced the royal enclosure.
	
	Poor little Tom	 in his rags	 approached	 and was moving slowly and
	timidly past the sentinels	 with a beating heart and a rising hope	 when
	all at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle that
	almost made him shout for joy.  Within was a comely boy	 tanned and brown
	with sturdy outdoor sports and exercises	 whose clothing was all of
	lovely silks and satins	 shining with jewels; at his hip a little
	jewelled sword and dagger; dainty buskins on his feet	 with red heels;
	and on his head a jaunty crimson cap	 with drooping plumes fastened with
	a great sparkling gem.  Several gorgeous gentlemen stood near--his
	servants	 without a doubt.  Oh! he was a prince--a prince	 a living
	prince	 a real prince--without the shadow of a question; and the prayer
	of the pauper-boy's heart was answered at last.
	
	Tom's breath came quick and short with excitement	 and his eyes grew big
	with wonder and delight.  Everything gave way in his mind instantly to
	one desire:  that was to get close to the prince	 and have a good	
	devouring look at him.  Before he knew what he was about	 he had his face
	against the gate-bars.  The next instant one of the soldiers snatched him
	rudely away	 and sent him spinning among the gaping crowd of country
	gawks and London idlers.  The soldier said	--
	
	Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!
	
	The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young prince sprang to the gate
	with his face flushed	 and his eyes flashing with indignation	 and cried
	out	--
	
	How dar'st thou use a poor lad like that?  How dar'st thou use the King
my father's meanest subject so?  Open the gates, and let him in!
	
	You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off their hats then. You
	should have heard them cheer	 and shout	 "Long live the Prince of Wales!"
	
	The soldiers presented arms with their halberds	 opened the gates	 and
	presented again as the little Prince of Poverty passed in	 in his
	fluttering rags	 to join hands with the Prince of Limitless Plenty.
	
	Edward Tudor said--
	
	Thou lookest tired and hungry:  thou'st been treated ill.  Come with
me.
	
	Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to--I don't know what; interfere	
	no doubt.  But they were waved aside with a right royal gesture	 and they
	stopped stock still where they were	 like so many statues.  Edward took
	Tom to a rich apartment in the palace	 which he called his cabinet.  By
	his command a repast was brought such as Tom had never encountered before
	except in books.  The prince	 with princely delicacy and breeding	 sent
	away the servants	 so that his humble guest might not be embarrassed by
	their critical presence; then he sat near by	 and asked questions while
	Tom ate.
	
	What is thy name, lad?
	
	Tom Canty, an' it please thee, sir.
	
	'Tis an odd one.  Where dost live?
	
	In the city, please thee, sir.  Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane.
	
	Offal Court!  Truly 'tis another odd one.  Hast parents?
	
	Parents have I, sir, and a grand-dam likewise that is but indifferently
precious to me, God forgive me if it be offence to say it--also twin
sisters, Nan and Bet.
	
	Then is thy grand-dam not over kind to thee, I take it?
	
	Neither to any other is she, so please your worship.  She hath a wicked
heart, and worketh evil all her days.
	
	Doth she mistreat thee?
	
	There be times that she stayeth her hand, being asleep or overcome with
drink; but when she hath her judgment clear again, she maketh it up to me
with goodly beatings.
	
	A fierce look came into the little prince's eyes	 and he cried out--
	
	What!  Beatings?
	
	Oh, indeed, yes, please you, sir.
	

"What dost thou make of this?"

"Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer.  It is not meet that
one of my degree should utter the thing."

"Then will _I_ utter it.  Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes, the
same voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same face and
countenance that I bear.  Fared we forth naked, there is none could say
which was you, and which the Prince of Wales.  And, now that I am clothed
as thou wert clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more nearly to feel
as thou didst when the brute soldier--Hark ye, is not this a bruise upon
your hand?"

"Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poor
man-at-arms--"

"Peace!  It was a shameful thing and a cruel!" cried the little prince,
stamping his bare foot.  "If the King--Stir not a step till I come again!
It is a command!"

In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of national
importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flying
through the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot face and
glowing eyes.  As soon as he reached the great gate, he seized the bars,
and tried to shake them, shouting--

"Open!  Unbar the gates!"

The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the prince
burst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldier
fetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent him whirling to the
roadway, and said--

"Take that, thou beggar's spawn, for what thou got'st me from his
Highness!"

The crowd roared with laughter.  The prince picked himself out of the
mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting--

"I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang for
laying thy hand upon me!"

The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said mockingly--

"I salute your gracious Highness."  Then angrily--"Be off, thou crazy
rubbish!"

Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and hustled
him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting--

"Way for his Royal Highness!  Way for the Prince of Wales!"



Chapter IV. The Prince's troubles begin.

After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little prince was
at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself.  As long as he had
been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it royally, and royally
utter commands that were good stuff to laugh at, he was very
entertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he was
no longer of use to his tormentors, and they sought amusement elsewhere.
He looked about him, now, but could not recognise the locality.  He was
within the city of London--that was all he knew.  He moved on, aimlessly,
and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by were
infrequent.  He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed then
where Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then passed on, and
presently came upon a great space with only a few scattered houses in it,
and a prodigious church.  He recognised this church.  Scaffoldings were
about, everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was undergoing elaborate
repairs.  The prince took heart at once--he felt that his troubles were
at an end, now.  He said to himself, "It is the ancient Grey Friars'
Church, which the king my father hath taken from the monks and given for
a home for ever for poor and forsaken children, and new-named it Christ's
Church.  Right gladly will they serve the son of him who hath done so
generously by them--and the more that that son is himself as poor and as
forlorn as any that be sheltered here this day, or ever shall be."

He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping,
playing at ball and leap-frog, and otherwise disporting themselves, and
right noisily, too.  They were all dressed alike, and in the fashion
which in that day prevailed among serving-men and 'prentices{1}--that is
to say, each had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about the size
of a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it being of such scanty
dimensions, neither was it ornamental; from beneath it the hair fell,
unparted, to the middle of the forehead, and was cropped straight around;
a clerical band at the neck; a blue gown that fitted closely and hung as
low as the knees or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt; bright yellow
stockings, gartered above the knees; low shoes with large metal buckles.
It was a sufficiently ugly costume.

The boys stopped their play and flocked about the prince, who said with
native dignity--

"Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales desireth
speech with him."

A great shout went up at this, and one rude fellow said--

"Marry, art thou his grace's messenger, beggar?"

The prince's face flushed with anger, and his ready hand flew to his hip,
but there was nothing there.  There was a storm of laughter, and one boy
said--

"Didst mark that?  He fancied he had a sword--belike he is the prince
himself."

This sally brought more laughter.  Poor Edward drew himself up proudly
and said--

"I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king my
father's bounty to use me so."

This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified.  The youth who had
first spoken, shouted to his comrades--

"Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's princely father, where be
your manners?  Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do reverence to
his kingly port 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, unconsciously brushed his profaned
shoulder, and eagerly said--

"Oh, art HIS father, truly?  Sweet heaven grant it be so--then wilt thou
fetch him away and restore me!"

"HIS father?  I know not what thou mean'st; I but know I am THY father,
as thou shalt soon have cause to--"

"Oh, jest not, palter not, delay not!--I am worn, I am wounded, I can
bear no more.  Take me to the king my father, and he will make thee rich
beyond thy wildest dreams.  Believe me, man, believe me!--I speak no lie,
but only the truth!--put forth thy hand and save me!  I am indeed the
Prince of Wales!"

The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad, then shook his head and
muttered--

"Gone stark mad as any Tom o' Bedlam!"--then collared him once more, and
said with a coarse laugh and an oath, "But mad or no mad, I and thy
Gammer Canty will soon find where the soft places in thy bones lie, or
I'm no true man!"

With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, and
disappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm of
human vermin.







