he set out with them for Rome. In his train rode Robert of Sicily, clad in fool's motley, decorated, for a mockery, with foxes' tails; and on his shoulder sat a grinning ape. The angel was clad all in white, with a white steed adorned with rich harness, so that he looked truly a King; but at the sight of King Robert and his ape all men broke into jeering laughter. They came to Rome, and the Pope and the Emperor welcomed the angel as their brother, with great splendor and rejoicings. At their meeting King Robert could not contain himself, but rushed among them, crying eagerly on his brothers to recognize him. "This is no King," he said, pointing to the angel. "He has taken my crown and my throne and my kingdom by some trick. I am Robert of Sicily." But the Pope and the Emperor would have none of him. His words seemed but another proof of his madness. And now, when all men cast him off, even his own brothers, King Robert began to feel true repentance in his heart. "Alas," he cried, "how low have I fallen: I am more forlorn than any man alive." Then he thought how he had come to this pass; how in his pride he had said, "no man hath power to bring me low"; and, behold, he was lower now than his humblest servant. He thought of other Kings whom God had put down from their seats, and he said to himself: "For my evil pride I am set in this sorry case, and it is right that I should be thus. Lord, on Thy fool have pity. I repent of my sin. I alone did wrong, for I leaned not on Thee, and despised Thy word. Have pity on Thy fool, O Lord." Thus King Robert repented of his pride; and peace came into his heart thenceforth. In five weeks' time the angel once more returned to Sicily, King Robert, still dressed as a fool, in his train. When they came to the royal palace, the angel called King Robert before him, and asked him, as of old, "Fool, are you King?" "No, sire," answered King Robert. What are you, then?" asked the angel. "Sire, I am your fool," answered King Robert, " and more than a fool, if that may be." The angel went into his private chamber, and summoned King Robert to him; and they were left alone. "You have won God's mercy," said the angel. "God has forgiven your pride. Henceforth serve and dread Him; think of the lowly estate to which you were cast down, and how lowly is even a King in comparison with the King of Heaven. Know now that I am an angel, sent to keep your kingdom from harm while you learned humility; more joy shall fall to me in one hour of one day in Heaven than here on earth befalls a man in an hundred thousand years. I am an angel; you are the King." In the twinkling of an eye the angel vanished. King Robert returned to the hall of the palace, and was received without question as King. For three years he reigned wisely and prosperously, until he received warning, in a dream, that the hour of his death was near. Then he wrote down all the story of his fall from high estate, and sent it to his brethren, that they and all men might know that God alone has true power; and this is the tale that has been handed down concerning him. -F. J. HARVEY DARTON. em'bassy persons sent as messengers.-mot'ley: clothing made of many colors.-humil'ity: freedom from pride. THE WINDY NIGHT Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the midnight tempests howl! With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune Through limbs that creak, They cry and flit, "Tu-whit! to-who!" like the solemn owl! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, Sweep the moaning winds amain, And wildly dash The elm and ash, Clattering on the window-sash, With a clatter and patter, Like hail and rain That well nigh shatter The dusky pane! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the tempests swell and roar! Though no foot is astir, Though the cat and the cur Lie dozing along the kitchen floor, There are feet of air On every stair! Through every hall Through each gusty door, There's a jostle and bustle, With a silken rustle, Like the meeting of guests at a festival! Alow and aloof, Over the roof, How the stormy tempests swell! And make the vane On the spire complain They heave at the steeple with might and main And burst and sweep Into the belfry, on the bell! They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well, That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep, And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell! -THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. aloof': from a distance.-amain': with might. |