Page:The golden book of King Edward VII.djvu/15

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THE GOLDEN BOOK OF


These earnest words of his own might have been prophetically put into the mouth of the little boy who was born at Buckingham Palace on November 9th, 1841, to so great an inheritance, so enormous a responsibility. It was nearly 80 years since the birth of an English Monarch’s son had taken place in England: the Nation that welcomed the Heir-Apparent with unfeigned and enthusiastic rejoicings continued to follow his infant years with looks of elevated interest. The light, active, blue-eyed, fair-haired little boy —“Bertie” to his family, “Princey” to his teachers—was liable to get into scrapes, like any other healthy child: but he thought (as a scrap of a childish letter shows),

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I do not know how it is that I am ever naughty, for I am much happier when I am good.

And as soon as he was able to write, he copied out in his straggly childish hand his simple little morning and evening prayers.

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