HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.

By Rev.  C. H. Mead.

“Black yer boots, mister?  Shine ’em up—­only a nickel.”  Such were the cries that greeted me from half a dozen boot-blacks as I came through the ferry gates with my boots loaded down with New Jersey mud.  Never did barnacles stick to the bottom of a vessel more tenaciously, or politician hold on to office with a tighter grip, than did that mud cling to my boots.  And never did flies scent a barrel of sugar more quickly than that horde of boot-blacks discovered my mud-laden extremities.  They swooped down upon me with their piercing cries, until many of my fellow-passengers gazed on my boots with looks that seemed to rebuke me for my temerity in daring to bring such a large amount of soil to add to the already over-stocked supply of the city.  My very boots seemed to plead with me to let one of those boys relieve them of the load that weighed them down.  But, behold my dilemma—­six persistent, lusty, vociferous boys clamoring for one job, while I, as arbiter, must deal out elation to one boy, and dejection to the five.

“Silence!  Fall into line for inspection!” Behold my brigade, standing in line, and no two of them alike in size, feature or dress.  All looked eager, and five of them looked at my boots and pointed their index fingers at the same objects.  The sixth boy held up his head in a manly way and looked me in the eye.  I looked him over and was affected in two ways.  His clothes touched my funny bone and made me laugh before I knew it.  If those pants had been made for that boy, then since that time there had been a great growth in that boy or a great shrinkage in the pants.  But, if the pants were several sizes too small and fit him too little, the coat was several sizes too large and fit him too much, so that his garments gave him the appearance of being a small child from his waist down, and an old man from his waist up.  The laugh that came as my sense of humor was touched, instantly ceased as I saw the flush that came to the boy’s face.  The other five boys wanted to get at my boots, but this one had got at my heart, and I made up my mind he should get at my boots as well, and straightway made known my decision.  This at once brought forth a volley of jibes and jeers and cutting remarks.  “Oh, ‘His Royal Highness’ gets the job, and he will be prouder and meaner than ever, he will.  Say, mister, he’s too proud to live, he is.  He thinks he owns the earth, he does.”

The flush deepened on the boy’s face, and I drove his assailants away ere I let him begin his work.

“Now, my boy, take your time, and you shall have extra pay for the job; pardon me for laughing at you; don’t mind those boys, but tell me why they call you ‘His Royal Highness?’”

He gazed up in my face a moment with a hungry look, and I said, “You can trust me.”