within the walls of the Garter Chapel of St George, where on May 20 sixty-eight years later he was solemnly laid to rest amid the lamentations of his people.

The newspaper paragraph was cut from the 'Times' and pasted into her journal by Queen Victoria. Above it is written:

'Bells were ringing and guns firing. I offered up again an anxious prayer that the Almighty would grant a blessing to the ceremony, and we prayed that our little boy might become a true and virtuous Christian in every respect, and I pray that he may become the image of his beloved father.'

The prophetic insight of the anonymous writer and the prayers of the young mother have had a curious and wonderful fulfilment. In those days to have thought of the boy Prince as King by other than his father's name was a forecast sufficiently remarkable, without a further anticipation, almost in words, of the noble panegyric of the parliamentary leaders which closed the reign of King Edward. When Queen Victoria prayed for her little boy to grow up in the likeness of Prince Albert, she little dreamed that the son would live to appeal to the hearts of the British people at home and scattered over an Empire then unimagined in a fashion and degree quite beyond the range of his illustrious father.

It has been noticed that Whig writers sixty years ago used to say that when the memories of the nineteenth century began to see the light, people in this country would realise what a debt of gratitude they owed to Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. These writers had in mind the indefatigable zeal shown by the Queen in transacting the business of State, her impartiality in dealing with contending factions, the sleepless watch which she kept over the actions of her Ministers, and her single-minded regard for the interests of her people abroad and at home.

There was, however, another and unforeseen debt of gratitude which we owe to the Queen and the Prince. It is the character and kingly equipment of King Edward.

Who can determine the precise influence, upon any man, of inheritance and environment?

Less than three months before Queen Victoria's eldest son was born, Lord Melbourne-then about to bid farewell

as Prime Minister to her whom he had served so faithfully-said, speaking of the Prince, 'You told me when you were going to be married that he was perfection, which I thought a little exaggerated then, but really I think now that it is in some degree realised.'

King Edward was the child of a love marriage, but the passionate ties which bound his parents together were tempered by serious views of life and its higher duties, rare in people so young and so high-placed.

On the day of his birth the Queen enters in her journal that at twelve minutes to eleven a fine large boy was born, 'Oh how happy, how grateful did I feel to that Almighty Providence who has really blessed me SO peculiarly.'

which was

On his christening morn, in that room, King Edward's own in after years, his young parents went down on their knees and prayed for the child who some day was to be King in the words already quoted, and thence they passed, arrayed in their robes of the Garter, into St George's Chapel.

The child's official governess, Sarah Lady Lyttelton, describes the scene.

'Just out of the very agitating, magnificent, impressive business of the day. Such floods of sunshine, through the painted windows, on the fierce, stout features of the royal baby; and such a burst of the Hallelujah chorus, as soon as the service closed! All was overpowering.'

'Ah, que Dieu bénisse l'enfant,' the King of Prussia said with glistening eyes and much feeling.

'When the Duchess of Buccleugh set off to do her arduous part, taking the Prince of Wales and giving him up to, and then taking him from, the Archbishop, she made a little room and I forced my way into it, so as to see the child perfectly, and also how well she did it, and also how neatly she picked H.R.H., mantle, lace, and all, out of the voluminous folds of the Primate's lawn sleeves, and the dangers of his wig, which it was feared the Prince might have laid hold of, and brought awry at least, on quitting his arms. I did not even see, what I heard admired, the Queen's very devout and affecting manner of kneeling quite down, in spite of her cumbrous robes of the Garter, on first entering the Chapel.'

It was on this very spot, where Queen Victoria knelt then, and amid a like pageantry, that a few weeks ago

another Queen was kneeling, while another Primate of All England pronounced the final blessing over the open grave of the King whose reign had more than fulfilled the hopes and answered the prayers of those who knelt there on his christening day.

Here are glimpses of the little Prince before he was a year old.

"The Prince of Wales, to judge by his noble countenance and calm manner, will be a fine creature. He is very intelligent, and looks through his large, clear blue eyes full at one with a frequent very sweet smile.'

And some months later:

'The Prince of Wales is turning out passionate and determined enough for an autocrat. But he has still his lovely mildness of expression and calm temper in the intervals.'

These words were written in October 1842, and how vividly they recall the King who was ours, and among us only a few weeks ago!

When he was three and a half years old, Lady Lyttelton speaks of him thus:

'The Prince of Wales talks much more English than he did, though he is not articulate like his sister, but rather babyish in accent. He understands a little French and says a few words, but is altogether backward in language, very intelligent, and generous, and good-tempered, with a few passions and stampings occasionally. Most exemplary in politeness and manner, bows and offers his hand beautifully, besides saluting à la militaire, all unbidden.'

6

As for the Prince's backwardness,' he may well have appeared so to his governess, used as she was to a little Princess, who, when she was only six years old, and when in the glowing pages of 'Little Arthur's History' an ancient poet, Wace by name, was mentioned, a poet whose name was utterly unremembered by her embarrassed teacher, retorted:

'Oh yes, I dare say you did know all about him, only you have forgotten it. Réfléchissez. Go back to your youngness, and you will soon remember.'

No wonder her governess adds:

'I certainly never remember in all my youngness, such a young lady as she is, at her age.'

And here is a final touch of the King's childhood. It was October 11, 1847, and he was six years old.

'WINDSOR CASTLE,

'October 13, 1847.

'I suppose you will see something in the newspapers of the great escape for which we all, beginning at the top of the tree, have to thank God. The day before yesterday it was, that the elder children being just setting out on their pony-ride, the odious little Japanese pony, Dwarf, frightened the others; and all set off, being most unluckily, but by no fault of anyone, at the actual moment not held by bridles. The Princess Royal was gently thrown, after a few yards of canter, by her very quiet pony, and not at all hurt: the Prince of Wales was run away with, at the fleetest gallop his pony could go at, all round the lawns. He was strapped into his Spanish seat saddle. But, had the pony gone against a tree, under a bough, or down the slopes, had the groom not, just before, girthed the saddle on, which was found loose, or had the dear child not been so brave as to keep hold of as tight a rein as he could pull, and neither to cry out nor move, we should be now thinking of him in happiness such as -I trust in mercy he may live to inherit some more distant day! The danger was so great, and the sight of his progress so awful, that poor Miss Hildyard, so calm and unnervous, shrieked and ran about distracted; the groom says he never shall forget her cry: "Oh, for God's sake save the child!" I am thankful that I did not see the horrid sight. The Prince of Wales did not cry, and showed no signs of fear, after one loud call for help at first. Princess Royal was like herself; not frightened, and said nothing on falling off herself; but looking round and seeing her brother she screamed out: "Oh! can't they stop him? Dear Bertie!" and burst into tears.

'Oh! it was an awful thing.

'Princey's pony is called Arthur, and is often thought

slow.

'Yesterday on the Prince taking his writing lesson, Miss Hildyard said: "Hold your thumb in the right place, Prince of Wales-so-you can do it right if you try, I'm sure." "Oh yes!" he answered with a sly smile at her, "I can. Arthur can gallop, we know now!" It was the only allusion he made to it-rather a clever one.'

Was not the child father of the man? A noble countenance, 'a calm manner,' 'the large blue eyes looking full

at one, a frequent very sweet smile,' 'a temper which could be passionate and determined with stampings occasionally, but habitually was calm and generous,' 'most exemplary in politeness and manner.' And finally a brave strong heart knowing no fear, and a sly humour to crown all !

How vain appear the attempts of man to shape character, and how inscrutable are the ways of God!

The King was born in that eventful year when Sir Robert Peel succeeded Lord Melbourne as Prime Minister; and during that period when the child's governess was recording her impressions of his baby character, amid the wildest political conflicts, the influence of the Crown, silently and unnoticed, began to assume a shape which altered drastically the relation between the Monarchy and the people, and which culminated in the position occupied by King Edward in the hearts of his subjects and in the counsels of the Empire. It was a combative and critical epoch, in which the Throne itself and those nearest it were not spared.

'Every imaginable calumny' (wrote the Prince Consort) 'is heaped upon us, especially upon me; and although a pure nature, conscious of its own high purposes, is, and ought to be, lifted above attacks, still it is painful to be misrepresented by people of whom one believed better things.'

Patience and self-restraint under attack are the only weapons which can with dignity be used by the occupant of a throne. The Queen never thought of, nor would she have tolerated, any vindication or reply. The bitterness and folly of his calumniators served to draw closer together the Prince's friends. Their numbers grew, and as the circle widened, not only did calumny die down, but the high merit of the Prince, his assiduity, his disinterestedness, and his devotion to the country of his adoption, began to be understood and appreciated by every section of the people. It came to be realised after the Exhibition of 1851, when the Prince of Wales was ten years old, that the husband of the Queen was something more than a Royal Consort, that he was a statesman of steady vision and high principle, whose outlook upon life and its duties was bravely faced from a bastion flanked by the deepest sense of religious belief and the