last tears have been shed, and the last farewells spoken in pulpit and on platform for the “passing” of the great Queen! For with her passes more than herself; her death sets the closing seal on the scroll of the nineteenth century; and with her departs for ever a Royal dynasty! We do not quite grasp the meaning of the grave historical events through which we have rushed, half blind with amazement, during the first month of the Twentieth Century; many of us do not yet fully understand that we have done with the House of Hanover, and have accepted as reigning Sovereigns the House of Saxe-Coburg Gotha. It means nothing very much to our ears as yet, but who shall predict that it may not in future mean something more than we can anticipate? Edward VII is King over a generation of people whose modes of thought and life are totally different to the modes of thought and life which distinguished the English during the first half of his Mother’s reign. Few will deny that there is much in modern society which would be better eliminated, and that the general callousness and carelessness shown for most things save self and money are not good signs of the times. People who made our late Queen’s Funeral an excuse for private rowdyism, who engaged “windows with luncheon inclusive,” for £50 and £100, and laughed and giggled in their “fashionable” black as the solemn cortège went by, as if the whole pageant were a circus fair, are not promising subjects of our great realm. Such persons, however, it must be remembered, were of the ultra-moneyed class, and it is the ultra-moneyed class who are likely to have much to do in the ruling of social matters. The actual People of Great Britain have nothing in common with these; these, who in their millions watched the mortal remains of their great Queen carried through the streets of London in a silence that was almost terrible, because so pregnant with unuttered meanings. These millions are they who are most deeply and loyally conscious of their loss in the death of the good Queen,--these are they who take up the labour of their days again with heavy hearts, and doubting, puzzled brains wondering what is to come next. War is draining out young brave lives through the country,--trade is slipping from British hands to Americans and foreigners,--taxation is heavy; food and fuel are dear. Speculators in South African holdings are preparing largely for their own self-aggrandizement, regardless of the country’s welfare, or the life-blood that has been shed in the long and cruel contest with the Boers; and it is, under the circumstances, which are visible to the most casual observer, and need no exaggeration to make them more serious, that Edward VII ascends the Imperial Throne of England. He has what none of his early ancestors had,--a cheap Press ready to flatter him,--to note his every movement,--to eulogize his every smile and nod, to crawl and cringe and clean his boots with