w work and new pleasures for
himself.

The sense of THE INEVITABLE, as grown-up people call it--that we cannot
have things as we want them to be, but as they are, and that we must
learn to bear them and make the best of them--this lesson, which
everybody has to learn soon or late--came, alas! sadly soon, to the poor
boy. He fought against it for a while, and then, quite overcome, turned
and sobbed bitterly in his godmother's arms.

She comforted him--I do not know how, except that love always comforts;
and then she whispered to him, in her sweet, strong, cheerful voice:
"Never mind!"

"No, I don't think I do mind--that is, I WON'T mind," replied he,
catching the courage of her tone and speaking like a man, though he was
still such a mere boy.

"That is right, my Prince!--that is being like a prince. Now we know
exactly where we are; let us put our shoulders to the wheel and----"

"We are in Hopeless Tower" (this was its name, if it had a name), "and
there is no wheel to put our shoulders to," said the child sadly.

"You little matter-of-fact goose! Well for you that you have a godmother
called----"

"What?" he eagerly asked.

"Stuff-and-nonsense."

"Stuff-and-nonsense! What a funny name!"

"Some people give it me, but they are not my most intimate friends.
These call me--never mind what," added the old woman, with a soft
twinkle in her eyes. "So as you know me, and know me well, you may give
me any name you please; it doesn't matter. But I am your godmother,
child. I have few godchildren; those I have love me dearly, and find me
the greatest blessing in all the world."

"I can well believe it," cried the little lame Prince, and forgot
his troubles in looking at her--as her figure dilated, her eyes grew
lustrous as stars, her very raiment brightened, and the whole room
seemed filled with her beautiful and beneficent presence like light.

He could have looked at her forever--half in love, half in awe; but she
suddenly dwindled down into the little old woman all in gray, and, with
a malicious twinkle in her eyes, asked for the traveling-cloak.

"Bring it out of the rubbish cupboard, and shake the dust off it,
quick!" said she to Prince Dolor, who hung his head, rather ashamed.
"Spread it out on the floor, and wait till the split closes and
the edges turn up like a rim all round. Then go and open the
skylight,--mind, I say OPEN THE SKYLIGHT,--set yourself down in the
middle of it, like a frog on a water-lil