se. Its influences extended to every department of
public life; it affected politics, trade, public holiday, art, science;
it invaded literature, increased the circulation of the newspapers, and
lent inspiration even to poetry.

And those being the facts, how useless for satirists and cynics to
pretend any longer that monarchy as an institution was not firmly and
inextricably imbedded in the very life and habits of the Jingalese
people?

Even at the universities the theme chosen for the prize poem that year
was the King's recovery from sickness; and though the prizes were few an
unusually large number of the rejected poems, owing to the popularity of
their subject, were published in the local newspapers. Perhaps only a
few of them were good, but one at least achieved success, and was
recited at all charity bazaars, concerts, and theatrical entertainments
given in the ensuing year. One couplet alone shall be here quoted,
portraying as it does in graphic phrase the national suspense during
those weeks of prolonged crisis when telegram after telegram continued
to pour monotonous negation on the hopes of an expectant people--

"Swift o'er the wires the electric message came,
He is no better: he is much the same!"

Even amateur reciters could make an effect out of lines like that. Many
of them did, and on one occasion the Princess Charlotte was a
conspicuous member of the touched and attentive audience. It was a
difficult moment for her, but with the help of a handkerchief she
concealed her emotion, and the papers referred to it appreciatively as a
touching incident.

The joy-bells that rang for a King's recovery, rang also for the public
announcement of a royal betrothal. Prince Fritz had returned to the
enchantment of his Charlotte's society at the earliest possible moment,
and was in consequence one of the royal family group which went in state
to the Cathedral to return thanks for the sovereign's restoration to
health.

Across that bright scene we have to note the passing of one shadow
which, though not of impenetrable gloom, should not fail to enlist the
equable sympathy of kindly hearts. Max still moved upon the public stage
with a pensive and a chastened air. In the last month he had matured
visibly, yet he did not mourn as one without hope, for he remembered
that in the Church of Jingalo virginity could only vow itself for a
limited number of years, and he knew that time could bring wisdom to
inexper