re a dozen or so fellows standing around, and they all had
on some kind of uniforms, with gold badges on their breasts, and in the
midst of them was a little, sawed-off fat fellow, not taller than five
feet six, but a perfect picture of the cigar advertisements of America
for a cigar named after the king. I expected to see a king as big as
Long John Wentworth of Chicago, a great big fellow that could take a
small man by the collar and throw him over a house, and I felt hurt at
the small size of the king of Great Britain, but, gosh, he is just like
a Yankee, when you get the formality shook off.

We bowed and dad made a courtesy like an old woman, and the king came
forward with a smile that ought to be imitated by every Englishman. They
all imitate his clothes and his hats and his shoes, but he seems to be
the only Englishman that smiles. Maybe it is patented, and nobody has a
right to smile without paying a royalty, but the good-natured smile of
King Edward is worth more than stomach bitters, and the English ought
to be allowed to copy it. There is no more solemn thing than a party of
Englishmen together in America, unless it is a party of speculators
that are short on wheat, or a gathering of defeated politicians when the
election returns come in. But the king is as jolly as though he had not
a note coming due at the bank, and you would think he was a good, common
citizen, after working hours, at a round beer table, with two schooner
loads in the hold and another schooner on the way, frothing over the top
of the stein. That is the feeling I had for the king when he came up
to us and greeted dad as the father of the bad boy and patted me on the
shoulder and said: "And so you are the boy that has made more trouble
than any boy in the world, and had more fun than anybody, and made
them all stand around and wonder what was coming next. You're a wonder.
Strange the American people never thought of killing you." I said
yessir, and tried to look innocent, and then the king told dad to sit
down, and for me to come and stand by his knee, and by ginger, when
he patted me on the cheek, and his soft hand squeezed my hand, and he
looked into my eyes with the most winning expression, I did not wonder
that all the women were in love with him, and that all Englishmen would
die for him.

He asked dad all about America, its institutions, the president, and
everything, and dad was just so flustered that he couldn't say much,
until the k