Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1901-01-29
THERIGHTFULKING
He Was Q Mental Wreck, but He
Gave His Life For Another.

Not even the hideous pile Of red
brick could spoil the beauty of the asy-
lum gardens upon an evening in June.
The huge house stood on a hillside
In one Of the fairest spots that ever
man helped nature to make. Roses
were opening on all sides, and here
and there a late daffodil still fingered
to make the red roses jealous with its
simpler beauty.
Among the trumpets Of the conyolvu-
lus sat the rightful king. He was not
in state robes, nor did he wear any
outward insignia Of royalty. Indeed
he wore a suit of decent and servicea-
BILE corduroys and soft felt hat, which
he found more comfortable than
crown. On the bench by his side was
a pile of parchment deeds and Legal
looking papers.
The rightful king sat with his hands
hanging loosely and a vacant. soulless
stare in his watery old eyes. His low
er lip had dropped, and his whole face
was absolutely destitute of intelli'
gence. For the moment one saw
mere statue Of flesh and no more.
Suddenly footsteps were heard ap'
preaching, and there was tinkle OF
feminine laughter coming through the
flowers. A light began to flicker back
into the lunatic's face, making 1t weak
indeed. but not mere brute, as 1t had
been before Two young ladies, In
cool summer frocks. accompanied by
a tall young man in tweeds ana WIN
the ribbon of an oxford college on his
hat. came walking down the gravel
path. laughing as they came.
The rightful king became violently
agitated. He shook with eagerness'
and a yearning came into his eyes like
the pleading look Of an unfondled dog.
would Miss Bremmil notice himE
That was the great question. His posi-.
ton as rightful king was, he well
knew. one which was not well estap'
lished.
MANY of the other inmates OF the
ASYLUM resented it and wished to at
tract notice for themselves and their
foolish whims by minimizing his i'm
portance.
The visitors came up. This, Lucy"
said Miss Bremmil, the chaplain's
daughter to her friend. "this, Lucy, is
the rightful king Of England"
IF had my rights, miss said the
old man, Il should be a-sitting on
Queen Victoria's throne now"
"Incidentally," said the young man
from Oxford. "he fills up his time doing
little gardening. Your majesty Is
fond of flowers?
THAT l be, sir" said the right'ui
king, touching his hat. forgetting his
dignity or perhaps finding the habits
of his former life in the world without
the walls too strong for him.
"When comes into my own, miss,
he went on, you shall have all the di'
mons out of the Tower of London.
shan't want 'em!
His voice sank a little and grew thin
The momentary animation died away
from the foolish face. He could not
think of anything more to say. He be
gan to whistle.
The three young people looked at him
pityingly. and then, with word of
farewell. passed on their way.
81 am coming as far as the end OF
the gardens, DEAR" said the chaplain's
daughter to her guest. "Tve no doubt
Mr.. Fraser will see you over the
fields"
The young man gave her look Of
deep gratitude. Wonderful tact" he
thought to himself.
81 hope you've not been made miser.
able by going over the asylum" said
Miss Bremmil. "Of course, | am quite
used to it, and 1t doesn't affect me as it
must affect others"
1T is rather depressing" seid the
Girton girl. II dare say you'll think
me unfeeling and horrible, but II per-
sons become hopelessly insane-really
hopelessly. you know-I can't help feel
ing 1t would be better for them and for
everybody else If they were painlessly
put out Of the way"
"You haven't lived among mad peo-
pie, as l have" said the chaplain's
daughter quietly. you'd be surprised
how sensible many of them are and
how good also. | don't suppose that
poor old rightful king ever had an un'
kind thought in his life. He's Il dear
old thing and is always bringing me
flowers. He's devoted to me-"
Aren't any Of the lunatics violent
sometimes?" inquired the young man.
"Oh, none on this side Of the build
ing. They are harmless. Dangerous
cases are kept in separate wing. You
can Just see the roof over the trees.
OF course I'm never allowed to go
there"
How terrible 1t all seems" the Cir
ton girl said as they entered the last
long avenue, which led them to the
hillside beyond.
The sun began to make ready to slip
behind the hill, and it was now what
the Tennyson student called "Blow.
bugle, blow" time. they arrived at
the stile. They turned to look back
down the long and leafy avenue
through which they had come. 1t was
all irradiated with the long, level glow
of the sunset. A tiny black figure at
the far end, which seemed to be mov-
ing toward them, gave the scene just
that little necessary note OF human
contrast which made 1t perfect.
They said good night, and the Girton
girl strolled away into the purpling
shadows, where she was destined to
hear what she had never suspected