Never had a country a more popular king than King Edward VII, nor a more gracious queen than Queen Alexandra, and never was a happier day for the English people than that on which King Edward was crowned. A few days before the date fixed for the Coronation the king suddenly became ill, and a great gloom fell over the country, for it was feared that he might never be crowned. But though his illness was severe he soon began to get better, and when he was out of danger the hearts of his subjects were filled with joy and thankfulness. Guns were fired, church-bells pealed, and glad shouts and cheers rang out from the happy crowds which lined the streets of London, through which the king and queen, in the midst of their gay procession, drove to Westminster Abbey.
Inside the gray old Abbey was one of the most brilliant gatherings the world has ever seen. Princes and princesses from other lands were there, in their robes of state; peers and peeresses, in velvet, and ermine, and glittering diamonds; grave statesmen; and soldiers in their gay uniforms.
It was a grand and solemn scene when, before them all, the aged Archbishop of Canterbury drew near to the King, and with trembling hands placed the crown upon his head.
"The Lord give you a fruitful country, and healthful seasons, victorious fleets and armies, and a quiet Empire." These are the words that the old man said when he had crowned the king, and each one of us will pray that all these blessings may indeed rest upon King Edward VII, and the great Empire over which he rules.