That he was the acknowledged leader in the society of which he was the darling is perfectly true. It is also true that he spared no pains to promote the pleasure of others. But however late he might stay at some entertainment or at the Marlborough Club, he was up again at earliest dawn to attend a review at Aldershot or Spithead, or take part in a ceremonial in some distant part of the country, where he would appear as gay and as pleased as if he was fulfilling the one ambition of his life. His strength was wonderful; he knew not fatigue. That was an immense help to him. Later in life he allowed himself more rest; but as a young man he seemed to be almost independent of sleep. It has been said, cynically enough, that a King has no friends. That might be the case with a Roi Soleil who divided mankind into three categories—Royal personages, white men, and black men. Our King, on the contrary, was so full of human sympathy and loving-kindness for others, that he won for himself an affection such as is given to few men in any position. I remember in the quite early days of the Marlborough Club, in 1870, I was standing talking with a friend who died not long since, an old admiral. Close by was a knot of men in the heyday of youth, with the Prince in the centre, a happy, joyous band, he the choragus of the fun and merriment. My friend turned to me and said: “See! Is there one of those men who would not lay down his life for him?” That was true of him in those youthful days, and it remained true to the end. And now I must skip many years, because I am anxious to show how wrong it is to suppose that King Edward shirked work. One night I was dining at the Club, after King Edward had come to the throne, but before he had moved from Marlborough House into Buckingham Palace. He knew that I was in London for two or three days alone, so he sent over to ask whether I was at the Club, and if so to bid me go across to him. I found him in his private sitting-room, all alone, and we sat smoking and talking over old times for a couple of hours. Towards midnight he got up and said: “Now I must bid you good-night, for I must set to work”—pointing to a huge pile of the familiar red boxes. “Surely.” I said, “your Majesty is not going to tackle all that work to-night!” His answer was: “Yes, I must! Besides, it is all so interesting;” and then he gave me one of his happy smiles and I left him. “So interesting!”—that was the frame of mind in which he faced his work—he, the man who we are expected to believe could not be brought to attend to business!