Self-interest often wears the garb of honesty, and it is only the quickest ear that can catch the Falstaff whisper,—“I will make the king do you grace; I will leer upon him as he comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.” All thrones are surrounded by such time-servers and creatures of circumstance, yet it is likely that the throne of King Edward VII will be more than lavishly supplied with their company. The good heart, the generous nature, the invariable kindliness of the King’s disposition shed forth a sunshine and honey which must needs attract flies. God save him, therefore, not so much from foreign foes, for he can quell them, but from treacherous friends. God save him from the liar and the sycophant, the self-seeker and the hypocrite! God save him from the smiling mouth which carries a poisonous tongue, from the false heart which offers the open hand! These are the enemies against which mighty armies are of no avail, and cannons thunder in vain. These are not fair foes; they do not march out on the open field; they are cowards who shun discovery. God save the King! Again and yet again we offer up this prayer, kneeling among the flowers which cover our greatest Queen’s last resting-place. God save him, and endow him with such high faith as shall befit England’s highest ideals, strengthen his spirit that he may unfalteringly lift the glory of the Empire to still greater glory, give to him and his fair Queen-Consort full grace of good days and happy life, and may we, his faithful subjects, love and honour him for high purposes, great deeds and kindly words as we have loved and honoured his Mother, our late dear Sovereign-Lady Victoria! More love he could not ask from us,—and less we will not give!

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