But he was treated with great respect by the shopkeepers, because he seemed to have plenty of money. Curiously enough, the thing which seemed to attract him most was a head-shearing machine, or hair clipper, and when the frightened nobles of the court discovered him at last, it was with this singular implement in his possession. He had already begun to experiment with it on the heads of several small street boys, who were proving rebellious subjects, when the courtiers approached him, prostrating themselves upon the ground, and making alarmed outcries. The king no longer goes out shopping, but he retains his hair clipper as a souvenir of a happy day of freedom with the street boys. THE FLAGSTAFF ON THE TOWER. By WARREN BELL. “Well,” said Mr. Grafton, as he pushed his chair back from the breakfast table, “I think you’ve seen everything there is to be seen in such an out-of-the-way place. Now, Harry, are you sure you’ve shown your friend everything?” Harry Grafton was my great chum, and I was spending a part of the vacation with him. On hearing his father’s question, he puckered up his brow and gave his not usually overtaxed brain a little exercise. “Let’s see,” he replied, “you’ve seen the town hall and the old powder mill, my rabbits, the bridge, and the lake. Yes, he’s seen everything, father.” “But he hasn’t been up the tower yet!” put in Jack Grafton, a young imp of ten summers--and other seasons--who faithfully followed his brother and myself about wherever we went. Mr. Grafton’s beautiful country house was built of stone, with a tower at one corner. This tower was very high and intersected with little windows here and there. “No, that he hasn’t!” exclaimed Harry, pleased at the idea of having something else left to show me. “If you’ll let me have the keys, father, we’ll go at once.” Mr. Grafton hesitated before procuring the needful keys. “You must be very careful,” he said; “and, Harry, my boy, you mustn’t play any foolhardy pranks up there. Jack, I shan’t allow you to go at all.” Jack looked doleful as Mr. Grafton handed over the keys to his eldest son, who promptly led the way to the tower. With some difficulty Harry opened the massive door of the edifice, and just as we were commencing our ascent on the spiral staircase we heard a patter of small feet behind us, and, on looking round, observed that Jack, unknown to his father, had managed to get into the tower as well, by means, as he explained, of a side door which had been left open by some servant. At first his elder brother was for sending him back, but the little chap pleaded so hard to be allowed to accompany us, that at length Harry yielded to his entreaties, and we continued our journey up the tower, Harry leading the way, myself next, and Jack last. After a toilsome and dusty climb, we at length emerged on the roof of the tower, from which post of vantage we could see the country for many miles round.