One day as he looked from his elegant window he saw a poor boy passing drawn in a little wagon by a goat; then he set up a loud cry that he must have that very wagon and goat. It did no good for his mother to promise him just as good an one if it could be found in the Central Market, where almost everything could be bought. No, he must have that. That boy must sell it to him or it must be taken from him. What right had that poor boy to something that he (Claude) didn’t have? His mother reasoned with him, but all to no purpose; he stormed about, stamping his foot, saying he would have it if he had to kill the boy to get it. When he got over his rage somewhat his mother said: “You remind me of another Claude, only his real name was Claudius.” Then Master Claude quieted down and listened, for he was fond of stories, and now he knew his mother had one for him. So she went on thus: “Two thousand years ago there lived a large family in the country that is now called England. Their name was Briton. They were not the handsomest or wisest folks in the world, nor were they always gentle among themselves. Their houses were mere huts and their dress was the skins of wild animals. They were a brave people, but generally minded their own business. The great father of this family—I should say one of the big brothers—was Caractacus. He was strong and fearless, and very wise and good in his way. When they were in trouble they went to him, and somehow he always knew just what to do. So they thought of him just as American people think of Washington. “Miles and miles away across the great waters lived another family in an elegant marble palace”— “Now you are going to tell a story about me,” interrupted Claude. —“in an elegant marble palace. Everything without as well as within this beautiful mansion was costly and wonderful. There was nothing just like it on all the face of the earth. “But they were unhappy. They wanted something more. One day while they were sitting and feasting, dressed in purple and fine linen, and bands of music were playing, word came from one of their travelers about a fair island far away, and about this Briton family who owned it, and were living there so contentedly. “Then uprose the father of the Roman family—for that was their name—and the music ceased, the feasting was over, and the men put off their showy dress and put on their soldier clothes, and the father or big brother, whose name was Claudius”— “Now, mother, more about me?” “His name was Claudius, and he mounted his war horse and blew a loud blast that made the marble halls ring again, and with waving banners and peals of music away marched this Roman family to conquer the Briton family and make them give up their”— “Little wagon and goat?” —“give up their beautiful farm. On they went on foot and on horse and by boats till they landed one dark night and stole up to the back yard of the Britons.