Nor were the good people of Weymouth and Melcomb Regis a whit behind in loyalty, though greatly at a loss how to vary the expression of their feelings. “Not a child could we meet that had not a bandeau round its head, cap or hat, of ‘God save the King’; all the bargemen wore it in cockades; and even the bathing-women had it in large coarse girdles round their waists. It is printed in golden letters upon most of the bathing-machines, and in various scrolls and devices it adorns every shop, and almost every house, in the two towns.... Nor is this all. Think but of the surprise of his Majesty when, the first time of his bathing, he had no sooner popped his royal head under water than a band of music, concealed in a neighbouring machine, struck up, ‘God save great George our King’! One thing, however, was a little unlucky:—When the mayor and burgesses came with the address, they requested leave to kiss hands. This was graciously accorded; but the mayor advancing in a common way, to take the Queen’s hand, as he might that of any lady mayoress, Colonel Gwynn, who stood by, whispered: “‘You must kneel, sir.’ “He found, however, that he took no notice of this hint, but kissed the Queen’s hand erect. As he passed him, in his way back, the Colonel said: “‘You should have knelt, sir!’ “‘Sir,’ answered the poor Mayor, ‘I cannot.’ “‘Everybody does, sir.’ “‘Sir,—I have a wooden leg!’ “But the absurdity of the matter followed—all the rest did the same; taking the same privilege, by the example, without the same or any cause!”