and wanted to hear her news. She told how restlessness took hold of him as the end drew near: even when sadly weakened he tried to walk into the next room, how at the last she stood near him with his head resting on her shoulder-how the end came after an interval of

unconsciousness.

Then she said, "You would like to see him." She led me through two or three rooms till we came into the King's own bedroom. An oblong room with windows on the left as we entered; the greater part of the room was free of furniture: at the far end on the right was a folding screen. The Queen passed behind it; I followed: near the wall, parallel to the windows, was a small single bed, covered with a simple white counterpane; and there, lying with his hands just touching one another across his breast, lay the dead king. The face was pale; the expression calm and placid; he might have been asleep.

I went forward and fell on my knees beside him and kissed the cold right hand which was near me, and for a few moments I prayed. I rose and looked at the Queen. I could say nothing. I kissed her hand: the tears were in both our eyes: my voice refused utterance. At last I stammered out some commonplace remark that he looked peaceful, and that such a peaceful expression would leave a happy memory with her. She spoke about prayer, wondering whether prayers at the bedside of the unconscious could do much good. I said, "It can never be a mistake to tell God what we need and what we feel. All times are good for prayer." Then I added, "Shall we pray now?" We knelt by the bedside. I prayed, saying

what came uppermost from my heart. heart. We rose, the tears were in her eyes. I said, "Shall I leave you here?" She said, "Yes," and I left her with her dead.

It seemed but a day since I had been with her at Osborne, when she wept as the sense of the responsibility of sovereignty came over her. Further back my thoughts went to the day in March, forty-eight years before, when as an undergraduate I had witnessed the rejoicings and the fireworks on Parker's Piece in Cambridge and was nearly crushed to death by the crowd which had gathered to do honour to the Prince of Wales' wedding day.

The King is dead: Long live the King! So go the old words of national faith and hope. From the past we look to the future. The King died at a moment of national anxiety. There were moments in which our fears of national feud were great, but outward events have driven away the clouds. External peril has united the hearts of all.

When King Edward died I ventured to say that such an event called for national searching of heart-now I can reiterate the thought with greater emphasis.

Professor Sir Charles Waldstein, in one of his addresses, told the story of a great foreign statesman who, after a discussion on international affairs, sadly said: "I have been sometimes tempted to ask myself whether the prosperity or continued existence of my own nation is really needful or useful to the world." Whatever answer independent thinkers in different lands may give to such a question, one thing is sure-the nation or people which is not wanted in the world will perish out of it. The

conditions of national existence and true national prosperity are simple and clear. The peoples of weak character— deficient in moral force, destitute of self-reliance, disdainful of truth, lacking the instincts of freedom, and justice-quickly fall under the domination of stronger peoples. In estimating the secret of Anglo-Saxon power, M. Demolins placed it in the self-reliance in which British lads were trained. In estimating the source of the strength of Ancient Rome, another French writer found it in manliness and reverence. Byron struck the same note when he wrote of Rome""Twas self-abasement led the way

To villain bonds and despots' sway."

The old Hebrew taught the same truth when he said: "Righteousness exalteth a nation." Here, then, at this trying and terrible moment of our history, may we not well pause and take stock of our national inheritance? If in this great national crisis all party lines vanish, if all can stand, as Lord Lansdowne said, shoulder to shoulder in this common distress, can we not stand together also in the determination that henceforth we will sanction no laws, tolerate no fashions, which tend to the weakening or demoralization of national character? If health depends. upon the quality of the blood, national health and vigour depend upon the moral sympathies and ideals which are accepted by a people and incorporated into their thoughts and activities. And as it is easy to undermine health by adopting a diet which impoverishes or pollutes the blood, so is it easy also, through lowered ideals, lowered manners and customs, to spread weakness, and with it, perchance, seeds of decay throughout national life. Love of sport is

good; but it is evil when sport falls into professional hands and the public interest is less in the achievements of the field than in the opportunity of some gambling gain. Pleasure is natural and good: "all work and no play" is proverbially bad for men as well as boys; but a dislike of work, with a feverish love of pleasure, soon works disaster play ceases to be pleasure, and discontent follows, and meanwhile the capacity for effective and successful work is destroyed. Philanthropists have often striven to secure for downtrodden races their rights, but it is a sign of national decline when men clamour for their rights and speak lightly or seldom of their duties.

To be elected for a constituency and to be privileged therefore to write "M.P." after his name may attest, and probably does attest, a man's personal capacity-some energy of will and some measure of judgment; but it does not always carry with it the pledge of undeviating rectitude and singleness of purpose. It has been allied with flexibility of principle and flabbiness of character. Parliamentary government will suffer, and suffer justly, in public esteem should the House of Commons degenerate into an assembly of men gathered together to register the wishes or will of that section of their constituents which has secured their return. "If government were a matter of will upon any side," said Mr. Burke to the electors of Bristol, " yours, without question, ought to be superior. But government and legislation are matters of reason and judgment, and not of inclination; and what sort of reason is that in which one set of men deliberate and another decide, and where those who form the conclusion are

perhaps three hundred miles distant from those who hear the argument? To deliver an opinion is the right of all men that of constituents is a weighty and respectable opinion, which a representative ought always most seriously to consider. But authoritative instructions-mandates issued, which the member is bound blindly and implicitly to obey, to vote and to argue for, though contrary to the clearest conviction of his judgment and conscience-these are things utterly unknown to the laws of the land, and which arise. from a fundamental mistake of the whole order and tenour of our constitution."1 It follows from this that to surrender his conviction of what is really right and good for the country to the demands of party is, on the part of a member of Parliament, a betrayal of trust. 1 shall never forget the shock I once received when a member of Parliament waited upon me one Sunday afternoon and requested me to sign a petition praying the House of Lords to reject a certain measure for which he himself had voted in the House of Commons. Men who act in this fashion are lowering the standard of public morality, and promoting so far the slow decline of national character and national vigour.

The death of King Edward was a national loss it stirred our emotions. Since then has come the war, and another set of emotions has been stirred; the value of such feelings of loyal sorrow and ardent patriotism will only be secured if sentiment is translated into action, and if the nation which has experienced a common peril and common

1 Burke-Speech at the conclusion of the poll at Bristol. Works, vol. iii. pp. 19, 20.