The great thing, therefore, is to live here and now, the daily life of simplicity and self-denial such as our late glorious Queen lived. For if by the rule of courts we must wear outward black as a sign of mourning for her loss, let us in our hearts inwardly rejoice that God found her so pure, so ready for the highest bliss of Heaven. Sixty-three years of the most exalted position in the world, sixty-three years of undisputed sovereignty over millions of human beings, neither spoilt the earthly Woman nor the heavenly Soul which God had made our Queen. Shall we not be grateful for this? Shall we not give hearty thanks amid our lamentation? There is cause for very profound rejoicing that the Queens of the earth to-day are proverbially of simple tastes and gentle characters, and we may be proud that our Queen was the simplest of them all. Remembering her, and cherishing her memory as we shall ever do, it may be we shall help ourselves to measure things rightly by the standard she has left us, so that we may be no longer deceived by false appearances. We shall learn to recognize extravagance and ostentation as mere vulgarity,--materialism and atheism as the action of diseased brains, and social “swagger” as bad manners. We shall demand of women that the matrons deserve our homage and the maidens our respect,--that the aged command our reverence, and the young our tenderness. We shall perhaps learn by-and-bye that paint and dyed hair are not beautifiers of any woman’s face, and we shall give the wearers of such the kindly compassionate cold shoulder. We may even ask--who knows!--that certain of our “ladies” shall give up smoking and the use of stable slang. This would be a great concession, no doubt, but perhaps it will come. The memory of the great Queen who has passed from our midst without a stain upon her character as a woman, or a flaw in her wisdom as a Monarch, may exercise a softening charm and refining influence upon us through the chastening sorrow we feel at her irreparable loss. But that there are breakers ahead for England, who shall deny? Who can refuse to see the gathering clouds? Who that is not wilfully deaf cannot hear the ominous rising of the storm-wind? “We live in a time of sorrow, A time of doubt and storm, When the thunder-clouds hang heavy, And the air is thick and warm; When the far-off lightnings gather On the verge of the darkening sky, And the birds of the air, fear-stricken, To nest and cover fly: Look up! ye drowsy people, There’s desolation nigh. “Look up! ye drowsy people, And shield yourselves in time, From the wrath and retribution That track the heels of crime; That lie in wait for the folly Of the lordly and the strong; That spare not high nor lowly From vengeance threaten’d long,-- But strike at the heart of nations, And kings who govern wrong. * * * * *