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thy myself with industry of any kind， least of all with such industries as you seem to remend。 Indeed， I have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do。”
“Well， well，” said the Duck， who was of a very peaceable disposition， and never quarrelled with any one， “everybody has different tastes。 I hope， at any rate， that you are going to take up your residence here。”
“Oh！dear no，” cried the Rocket。 “I am merely a visitor， a distinguished visitor。 The fact is that I find this place rather tedious。 There is neither society here， nor solitude。 In fact， it is essentially suburban。 I shall probably go back to Court， for I know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world。”
“I had thoughts of entering public life once myself，” remarked the Duck； “there are so many things that need reforming。 Indeed， I took the chair at a meeting some time ago， and we passed resolutions condemning everything that we did not like。 However， they did not seem to have much effect。 Now I go in for domesticity， and look after my family。”
“I am made for public life，” said the Rocket， “and so are all my relations， even the humblest of them。 Whenever we appear we excite great attention。 I have not actually appeared myself， but when I do so it will be a magnificent sight。 As for domesticity， it ages one rapidly， and distracts one’s mind from higher things。”
“Ah！ the higher things of life， how fine they are！” said the Duck； “and that reminds me how hungry I feel；” and she swam away down the stream， saying， “Quack， quack， quack。”
“e back！ e back！” screamed the Rocket， “I have a great deal to say to you；” but the Duck paid no attention to him。 “I am glad that she has gone，” he said to himself， “she has a decidedly middle…class mind；” and he sank a little deeper still into the mud， and began to think about the loneliness of genius， when suddenly two little boys in white smocks came running down the bank， with a kettle and some faggots。
“This must be the deputation，” said the Rocket， and he tried to look very dignified。
“Hallo！” cried one of the boys， “look at this old stick！ I wonder how it came here；” and he picked the rocket out of the ditch。
“Old Stick！” said the Rocket， “impossible！ Gold Stick， that is what he said。 Gold Stick is very plimentary。 In fact， he mistakes me for one of the Court dignitaries！”
“Let us put it into the fire！” said the other boy， “it will help to boil the kettle。”
So they piled the faggots together， and put the Rocket on top， and lit the fire。
“This is magnificent，” cried the Rocket， “they are going to let me off in broad day…light， so that every one can see me。”
“We will go to sleep now，” they said， “and when we wake up the kettle will be boiled；” and they lay down on the grass， and shut their eyes。
The Rocket was very damp， so he took a long time to burn。 At last， however， the fire caught him。
“Now I am going off！” he cried， and he made himself very stiff and straight。 “I know I shall go much higher than the stars， much higher than the moon， much higher than the sun。 In fact， I shall go so high that—”
Fizz！ Fizz！ Fizz！ and he went straight up into the air。
“Delightful！” he cried， “I shall go on like this for ever。 What a success I am！”
But nobody saw him。
Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him。
“Now I am going to explode，” he cried。 “I shall set the whole world on fire， and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for a whole year。” And he certainly did explode。 Bang！ Bang！ Bang！ went the gunpowder。 There was no doubt about it。
But nobody heard him， not even the two little boys， for they were sound asleep。
Then all that was left of him was the stick， and this fell down on the back of a Goose who was taking a walk by the side of the ditch。
“Good heavens！” cried the Goose。 “It is going to rain sticks；” and she rushed into the water。
“I knew I should create a great sensation，” gasped the Rocket， and he went out。
★、The Young King
It was the night before the day fixed for his coronation， and the young King was sitting alone in his beautiful chamber。 His courtiers had all taken their leave of him， bowing their heads to the ground， according to the ceremonious usage of the day， and had retired to the Great Hall of the Palace， to receive a few last lessons from the Professor of Etiquette； there being some of them who had still quite natural manners， which in a courtier is， I need hardly say， a very grave offence。
The lad—for he was only a lad， being but sixteen years of age—was not sorry at their departure， and had flung himself back with a deep sigh of relief on the soft cushions of his embroidered couch， lying there， wild…eyed and open…mouthed， like a brown woodland Faun， or some young animal of the forest newly snared by the hunters。
And， indeed， it was the hunters who had found him， ing upon him almost by chance as， bare…limbed and pipe in hand， he was following the flock of the poor goatherd who had brought him up， and whose son he had always fancied himself to be。 The child of the old King’s only daughter by a secret marriage with one much beneath her in station—a stranger， some said， who， by the wonderful magic of his lute…playing， had made the young Princess love him； while others spoke of an artist from Rimini， to whom the Princess had shown much， perhaps too much honour， and who had suddenly disappeared from the city， leaving his work in the Cathedral unfinished—he had been， when but a week old， stolen away from his mother’s side， as she slept， and given into the charge of a mon peasant and his wife， who were without children of their own， and lived in a remote part of the forest， more than a day’s ride from the town。 Grief， or the plague， as the court physician stated， or， as some suggested， a swift Italian poison administered in a cup of spiced wine， slew， within an hour of her wakening， the white girl who had given him birth， and as the trusty messenger who bare the child across his saddle…bow stooped from his weary horse and knocked at the rude door of the goatherd‘s hut， the body of the Princess was being lowered into an open grave that had been dug in a deserted churchyard， beyond the city gates， a grave where it was said that another body was also lying， that of a young man of marvellous and foreign beauty， whose hands were tied behind him with a knotted cord， and whose breast was stabbed with many red wounds。
Such， at least， was the story that men whispered to each other。 Certain it was that the old King， when on his deathbed， whether moved by remorse for his great sin， or merely desiring that the kingdom should not pass away from his line， had had the lad sent for， and， in the presence of the Council， had acknowledged him as his heir。
And it seems that from the very first moment of his recognition he had shown signs of that strange passion for beauty that was destined to have so great an influence over his life。 Those who acpanied him to the suite of rooms set apart for his service， often spoke of the cry of pleasure that broke from his lips when he saw the delicate raiment and rich jewels that had been prepared for him， and of the almost fierce joy with which he flung aside his rough leathern tunic and coarse sheepskin cloak。 He missed， indeed， at times the fine freedom of his forest life， and was always apt to chafe at the tedious Court ceremonies that occupied so much of each day， but the wonderful palace—Joyeuse， as they called it—of which he now found himself lord， seemed to him to be a new world fresh…fashioned for his delight； and as soon as he could escape from the council…board or audience…chamber， he would run down the great staircase， with its lions of gilt bronze and its steps of bright porphyry， and wander from room to room， and from corridor to corridor， like one who was seeking to find in beauty an anodyne from pain， a sort of restoration from sickness。
Upon these journeys of discovery， as he would call them—and， indeed， they were to him