aunt.

He is a very intelligent child, is very vivacious, and his manners, notwithstanding the high honors that have been paid to him since his birth as the chief of a great nation, are entirely free from arrogance and self-conceit. When the Queen Regent is holding audience in her apartments in the palace, which are directly below his, he will often go down and salute those who are waiting in the antechamber, giving them his hand, even though he may never have seen them before, this frankness of manner being a trait of the Spanish people, who are of all people the most democratic.

ALFONSO XIII., WITH HIS MOTHER AND SISTERS.

He is very affectionate in his disposition, although he has a very firm will; and he tenderly loves his mother, whom he also greatly respects, and his sisters, who are his favorite playmates.

He seems, as he grows older, however, to be perfectly conscious of his exalted position. He knows that he is the King, and in the official receptions and ceremonies at which he has to be present he rarely becomes impatient however long and solemn they may be. One of these rare occasions was during a royal reception in the throne-room. He was sitting at the right hand of the Queen, and all the high functionaries and courtiers were defiling past him, when he began to play with the white wand of office of the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, a great officer of the palace. Suddenly leaving his seat and the wand of the Duke he ran down the steps of the throne, and mounted astride one of the bronze lions that stand on either side of it. The act was so entirely childlike and spontaneous, and was performed with so much grace, that it gave every one present a sensation of real pleasure. Even the Queen herself, while she regretted that the young King should have failed in the etiquette of the occasion, could not help smiling.

On another occasion of a similar kind he amused himself greatly watching the Chinese diplomats, looking with wonder and delight at their silk dresses, which he would touch from time to time with his little hands.

What most attracted his attention, however, was the Chinese minister's pigtail. He waited a long time in vain for a chance to look at it from behind, for the Chinese are a very polite people, and the minister would never think of turning his back upon the King. At last it occurred to Alfonso to run and hide himself in a corner of the vast apartment, and wait for his opportunity, which he did. After a while the President of the Cabinet, seeing him in the corner, went over to him, and said, "What is your Majesty doing here?" "Let me alone," answered the boy; "I am waiting for the Chinese minister to turn round, so that I may steal up behind him, and look at his pigtail."

The boy King, like most other boys, is very fond of boats, as may be gathered from the following anecdote. About three years ago the Queen gave a musical at San Sebastian, a sea-port where the royal family spend some months every summer for the sea-bathing, at which the Commandant of the Port was present. The little Alfonso was very fond of the Commandant, and had asked him for a boat, which the Commandant had promised to give the boy. He had not yet done so, however, and seeing him at the concert, the young King ran from one end of the room to the other, when the concert was at its best, and, stopping in front of him, said, "Commandant, when are you going to bring me the boat?"

In San Sebastian the royal family have a magnificent palace called the palace of Ayete, where, however, they live very simply. Alfonso plays all day on the beach with his sisters and other children, running about or making holes in the sand with his little shovel, in view of everybody. He takes long drives also among the mountains and through the valleys. Sometimes there is a children's party in the gardens of the palace, when he mingles freely with his young guests. Indeed, it is not always necessary that he should know who his playmates are. Not long since he was getting out of the carriage with his mother at the door of the palace in Madrid, when two little boys who were passing stopped to look at the boy King. "Mamma, may I ask those two boys to come upstairs to play with me?" Alfonso asked the Queen. "If you like," was the answer. He accordingly went over to the two boys, and asked them upstairs to play with him, and all three ran together up the palace stairs to the King's apartments.

The young King's birthday is always observed as a festival in the palace, and on his Saint's day, also, which is the 23d of January, there is always a grand reception. On this day it is the custom to confer decorations on such public functionaries as have merited them.

As a descendant of Queen Isabella there is something appropriate in Alfonso having sent an exhibit—a small brass cannon—to the great Fair in Chicago, at which he was the youngest exhibitor.

It is fortunate for the young King and for the country over which he is to rule that the important work of forming his character and educating his heart has fallen to a woman so admirably qualified for the task as the Queen Regent.

Born on the 21st of July, 1858, Maria Cristina is now in the early prime of life. Her appearance is distinguished and majestic; her manners are simple and amiable. She has a sound understanding and a cultivated mind, well stored with varied information. She is of a serious disposition, and is religious without bigotry, and good without affectation. During the lifetime of King Alfonso, her husband, she took no part whatever in politics, so that when she was called upon to assume the important responsibilities of the regency she was able to place herself above political parties, and to be the Queen of the nation. She has had the good fortune, in the midst of her personal grief—for the death of her husband, whom she loved devotedly, was a terrible blow to her—to win the good-will of the greater part of the Spanish people, and the respect of all by the wisdom and discretion with which, through her ministers and according to the constitution, she has governed the country. She is exceedingly charitable, and delights especially in relieving the wants of children; she gives large sums to children's aid societies. She educates at her own expense the children of public functionaries who have been left in poverty; she is constantly taking upon herself the care of orphaned children, and no mother ever asks her help in vain.

"Tail-piece." This title Hogarth, the celebrated English painter, gave to his last work. It is said that the idea for it was first started when, in the company of his friends, they sat around the table at his home. His guests had consumed all of the eatables and et cætera, and nothing remained but the empty plates and glasses. Hogarth, glancing over the table, sadly remarked, "My next undertaking shall be the end of all things." "If that is the case," replied one of his friends, "your business will be finished, for there will be an end of the painter." "There will be," answered Hogarth, sighing heavily.

The next day he started the picture, and he pushed ahead rapidly, seemingly in fear of being unable to complete it. Grouped in an ingenious manner, he painted the following list to represent the end of all things: a broken bottle; the but-end of an old musket; an old broom worn to the stump; a bow unstrung; a crown tumbled to pieces; towers in ruins; a cracked bell; the sign-post of an inn, called the "World's End," falling down; the moon in her wane; a gibbet falling, the body gone, and the chains which held it dropping down; the map of the globe burning; Phœbus and his horses lying dead in the clouds; a vessel wrecked; Time with his hour-glass and