Once upon a time, in the old, old days, there lived a king who had a head upon his shoulders wiser than other folk, and this was why: though he was richer and wiser and greater than most kings, and had all that he wanted and more into the bargain, he was so afraid of becoming proud of his own prosperity that he had these words written in letters of gold upon the walls of each and every room in his palace: _All Things are as Fate wills._ Now, by-and-by and after a while the king died; for when his time comes, even the rich and the wise man must die, as well as the poor and the simple man. So the king’s son came, in turn, to be king of that land; and, though he was not so bad as the world of men goes, he was not the man that his father was, as this story will show you. One day, as he sat with his chief councillor, his eyes fell upon the words written in letters of gold upon the wall--the words that his father had written there in time gone by: _All Things are as Fate wills_; and the young king did not like the taste of them, for he was very proud of his own greatness. “That is not so,” said he, pointing to the words on the wall. “Let them be painted out, and these words written in their place: _All Things are as Man does._” Now, the chief councillor was a grave old man, and had been councillor to the young king’s father. “Do not be too hasty, my lord king,” said he. “Try first the truth of your own words before you wipe out those that your father has written.” [Illustration] “Very well,” said the young king, “so be it. I will approve the truth of my words. Bring me hither some beggar from the town whom Fate has made poor, and I will make him rich. So I will show you that his life shall be as I will, and not as Fate wills.” Now, in that town there was a poor beggar-man who used to sit every day beside the town gate, begging for something for charity’s sake. Sometimes people gave him a penny or two, but it was little or nothing that he got, for Fate was against him. The same day that the king and the chief councillor had had their talk together, as the beggar sat holding up his wooden bowl and asking charity of those who passed by, there suddenly came three men who, without saying a word, clapped hold of him and marched him off. It was in vain that the beggar talked and questioned--in vain that he begged and besought them to let him go. Not a word did they say to him, either of good or bad. At last they came to a gate that led through a high wall and into a garden, and there the three stopped, and one of them knocked upon the gate. In answer to his knocking it flew open. He thrust the beggar into the garden neck and crop, and then the gate was banged to again.