To one feature in the King’s character I must reverently allude. He was a convinced Christian, devoutly observing all the ordinances of the Church. In Scotland he regularly attended the Parish Kirk at Crathie. I can call to mind one Sunday at Abergeldie in 1870 when so fierce a storm was blustering outside that it was impossible to leave the Castle. The Prince, then a very young man, read the Church of England’s service at home. Never did I hear that beautiful liturgy more impressively read. The music of his voice, the perfect diction—so conspicuous in his public utterances—gave value to every word of those inspired prayers. They struck home. The devotional sense, obviously genuine and true, would have been contagious in a crowded cathedral. It was no less so in the little room in the old grey castle; he made us feel with him. There is a charge brought against him in the “National Biography” (after he had mounted the throne, mark you!) that “at times he enjoyed practical joking at the expense of his friends.” Nothing could be more misleading. When he was a very young man—a mere boy—he would laugh at the wild pranks of some of the youngsters by whom he was surrounded. What could be more natural? They might play tricks upon one another, but never either as Prince or King did I, during nearly half a century, see him take active part in any such games himself. He was always mindful of his dignity, and for many years before he came to the throne I can affirm with certainty that no such tricks would have been permitted in his presence. My recollection of the King which I wish to place on record is that of a character made up of various qualities—a monarch deeply impressed with the duties and obligations of his exalted station; a man intensely human, and, let his critics say what they will, altogether lovable. The death of Queen Victoria on the 21st of January, 1901, was not unexpected, and yet she had been so long the figure-head of the Constitution that when the blow came it was felt as a shock. It was not only the death of a great monarch, it was the death of an epoch, the Finis and Colophon of a long and very important chapter in our history. The Queen had out-lived the long list of politicians who, during the sixty-four years of her reign, had helped to shape the destinies of Great Britain. Lord Melbourne, who won the confidence and trained the mind of the young girl who was so early summoned to her high office; Lord Grey, Sir Robert Peel, Lord Russell, Lord Derby, Lord Palmerston, Lord Beaconsfield, Mr. Gladstone, were all gone. Of her other two Prime Ministers, the great Lord Salisbury was yet three years short of reaching the dignity of an Eton jacket when she came to the throne; Lord Rosebery’s mother had been one of her bridesmaids.