o curry favor with the King of Prussia he would send him a
giant. The King showered favors on these men. He had court painters
paint portraits of each one of them. They were the very centre of that
great army which was the sole pride of the old warrior, and which he was
building up so that it should become the greatest military force in
Europe.

Fritz tried to do his duty as captain of the regiment, and gradually
acquired something of a military bearing. For a short time his father
was pleased, but his pleasure did not last long; for the boy could not
keep away from the fascinations of music and of books, and all of the
various arts which were constantly coming into Prussia from France.

The flute was Fritz's favorite instrument, and it so happened that a
very celebrated teacher of the flute came from Dresden about this time,
and gave lessons in the Prussian capital. As soon as Fritz learned that
this man was a splendid teacher he arranged to have him come secretly to
his room at Potsdam. The boy's mother knew of this plan, and did her
best to keep his secret; but it was a very dangerous matter, for the old
King was growing more and more suspicious, and also more and more
fierce. A friend of Fritz's, who was about his own age, stood guard
outside the boy's room, while he was having his lessons on the flute,
and another guard was stationed at the entrance to the palace grounds
with orders to send word at once if the King should appear.

When Fritz was satisfied of his safety, he would go up to his own room,
throw aside the tight, heavy military coat which he hated, and put on a
flowing French dressing-gown, scarlet colored, and embroidered with
gold. Then, dressed to suit himself, he would take his music lesson, and
enjoy every minute of the stolen pleasure.

One day, however, in the middle of his playing, the friend at the door
rushed into the room announcing that the King was coming. This boy and
the teacher seized the flutes and music books and ran into a
wood-closet, where they stood shaking with fear. Fritz threw off his
dressing-gown, pulled on his military coat and sat down at a table,
opening a book.

Now the old King, his brows bent with anger, burst into the room. The
sight of his delicate son reading seemed like fuel to his rage. He never
minced his words, and proceeded to heap abuse on the head of the poor
Prince, when all of a sudden he caught sight of the end of the scarlet
gown sticking out from behin