Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly and timidly

Past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, when all at once he

Caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle that almost made him

Shout for joy. Within was a comely boy, tanned and brown with sturdy

Outdoors sports and exercises, whose clothing was all of lovely silks and satins,

Shining with jewels; at his hip a little jeweled sword and dagger; dainty

Buskins on his feet, with red heels; and on his head a jaunty crimson cap, with

Drooping plumes fastened with a great sparkling gem. Several gorgeous

gentlemen stood near — his servants, without a doubt. Oh! he was a prince —

A prince, a living prince, a real prince — without the shadow of a question;

and the prayer of the pauper boy's heart was answered at last.

Tom's breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes grew big

With wonder and delight. Everything gave way in his mind instantly to one

desire: that was to get close to the prince, and have a good, devouring look at

Him. Before he knew what he was about, he had his face against the gate-bars.

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The next instant one of the soldiers snatched him rudely away, and sent him

Spinning among the gaping crowd of country gawks and London idlers. The

soldier said:

'Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!'