hats off, except soldiers, whose privilege it is to keep them on. You need not take yours off, Mr. Wurzel; you are one of Her Majesty’s Hussars. Now then all say after me: ‘Our gracious Queen; long may she live and blessed be her reign—the mother and friend of her people!’”
The enthusiasm was loud and general, and the toast was drunk with as hearty a relish as ever it was at Lord Mayor’s Banquet.
“And now,” said the sergeant, “once more before we part—”
“Ah! but the song?” said the Boardman.
“Oh yes, I keep my word. A man, unless he’s a man of his word, ought never to wear Her Majesty’s uniform!” And then he said:
“The Prince and Princess of Wales and the rest of the Royal Family.”
This also was responded to in the same unequivocal manner; and then amid calls of “the sergeant,” that officer, after getting his voice in tune, sang the following song:
GOD BLESS OUR DEAR PRINCESS.
There’s not a grief the heart can bear
But love can soothe its pain;
There’s not a sorrow or a care
It smiles upon in vain.
And She sends forth its brightest rays
Where darkest woes depress,
Where long wept Suffering silent prays—
God save our dear Princess!
chorus.