ich sounded to him like voices from another world.

Presently he roused himself from his meditations, and, with a gesture of
his hand, bade the rest of the court retire, and beckoned the jester to
draw near him. When the two were left alone, the angel said: "Art thou
the King?"

King Robert crossed his hands upon his breast, and, bending his head,
answered meekly: "Thou knowest best. My sins are very heavy; let me go
at once and do penance in a cloister. There I will school my spirit to
humility, and walk barefooted across the stones till my guilty soul is
shriven."

The angel smiled, and his radiant face seemed to illumine the hall with
a holy light. Then loud and clear through the open window the monks were
heard chanting in the chapel hard by: "He has put down the mighty from
their seat, and has exalted them of low degree."

And through the chant rose a second melody, a single melodious voice,
and the King seemed to hear the words: "I am an angel, and thou art the
King."

King Robert, who was standing near the throne, at length ventured to
lift his eyes, and, behold! he was alone in the hall! Looking round in
wonderment, his eye was caught by his attire; instead of the sorry garb
of the jester he was clothed in royal robes of ermine and cloth of gold.

Kneeling at the foot of the throne, King Robert gave heartfelt thanks to
the Divine Power which had taught him the error of his ways, and, when
his courtiers came to seek their royal master, they found him still
kneeling, absorbed in silent prayer.

THE
VILLAGE
BLACKSMITH

Have you ever peeped into a forge and seen a blacksmith at work? It is
quite exciting, I assure you, to see the flames being fanned by the
bellows, and myriads of sparks flying upwards and outwards on all sides,
while the blacksmith hammers the red-hot metal on the anvil and shapes
it into horseshoes and other useful things made of iron.

But there is one particular blacksmith whose acquaintance I want you to
make. He lives in a little village and his forge stands beneath the
shade of an immense chestnut tree with wide out-spreading branches. The
smith is a mighty man, and well he needs to be, for his work requires
great strength. His hands are large and sinewy and his muscles like
iron; his face is bronzed by the sun and his black hair is long and
curls crisply. He does not make a great deal of money in spite of all
his hard work, but he earns quite sufficient for his own modest