Puritan governor forbade Bishop Prescott to
use the Church of England prayers. On the
coffin being opened, the face was found dark
and discoloured, the forehead and mouth had
little of their muscular substance remaining,
the cartilage of the nose was gone, but the left
eye, though open and full at the first exposure,
vanished almost immediately. The shape
of the face was long, the nearly black hair
was thick at the back of the head; the beard
was a reddish brown. On examining the head,
the muscles of the neck showed contraction,
and the fourth cervical vertebra had been
cut through transversely, leaving the severed
surfaces smooth and even. The appearance
was such as a blow from a heavy axe would
have produced. In this chapel, sleep many
kings and queens; Jane Seymour among them,
and Henry the Eighth, by his own desire "near
his true and loving wife, Queen Jane." The
gigantic tomb, with six hundred and thirty-
four statues and forty-four "historics," which
the tyrant ordered, was never put up. His
subjects had better things to think of.

Old King George's memory is held dear at
Windsor. Thousands of honest old stories of
him circulate in the neighbourhood, all showing
what a dull, respectable, methodical, worthy,
tiresome old fellow he was. He rose at half-past
seven, attended service in the chapel, and breakfasted
at nine with the queen and the princesses.
The meal lasted only half an hour. The princesses
were ranged according to the severest
etiquette. After breakfast, the king rode out
attended by his equerries and his daughters. If
the weather were bad he sat within doors and
played at chess. He dined at two, the queen
and princesses at four. At five the king visited
the queen and took a glass of wine and water.
He then transacted private business with his
secretary. The evening was spent at cards, all
visitors retiring when the castle clock struck
ten, and always supperless. The royal family
separated at eleven o'clock for the night.

We all know from Peter Pindar how the
king chattered, asked foolish questions, and
answered them himself. His simple adventures
are still narrated in many Windsor farms. One
day he had to pass a narrow gate, on which a
stolid ploughboy sat swinging. " Who are
you, boy?" said the king. " I be a pig
boy. I be from the low country, and out
of work at present." "Don't they want lads
here?" asked the king. "I don't know,"
replied the boy. "All hereabouts belongs
to Georgey." "And who is Georgey?"
"Georgey! Why, the king; he lives at the
castle, but he does no good to me." The king
instantly ordered the boy to be employed on
his farm, and promised to look after him. He
turned out a steady lad. The king once went into
a cottage and began turning the meat for an old
woman, and was so pleased with himself for
doing it, that he left on the rude table five
guineas to buy a jack, wrapped in a paper with
that notification. Thiere was no pride about him,
and he was very kind hearted. Once he and Charlotte
met a little boy—"the king's beefeater's
little boy." The king said, " Kneel down and
kiss the queen's hand." But the boy was obdurate
and determined. " No," said he, "I won't
kneel, for if I do I shall spoil my new breeches."
The king was not so obstinate and pig-headed
but that he could bend to common sense sometimes.
One day Colonel Price differed with him
about cutting down a certain tree which the king
thought injured the prospect. " Ay," said the
king, pettishly, "that's your way; you continually
contradict me." " If your majesty,"
replied the colonel, " will not condescend
to listen to the honest sentiments of your servants,
you can never hear the truth." After a
short pause the king kindly laid his hand on
the colonel's shoulder, and said, " You are
right, Price; the tree shall stand." Even when
Prince George was a boy, Handel had noticed
his fondness for music, and the taste continued
till his death. When old, crazed, and
blind, he would wander up and down the corridors
of Windsor, dressed in a purple dressing
gown, his long white beard falling on his breast,
and used at lucid intervals to sing a hymn, and
accompany himself on the harpsichord. One
day towards the end of his life, in a sane
moment, the king heard a bell toll. He asked
who was dead. He was told it was a Mrs.
S. The king had a great memory—memory is
almost a royal prerogative—and immediately
said: " Ah! She was a linendraper at the
corner of—— street. She was a good woman,
and brought up her children in the fear of God.
She is gone to heaven. I hope I shall soon
follow her." Latterly he became impressed
with a sense that he was dead, and used to
say, "I must have a suit of black in memory
of King George the Third, for whom I know
there is a general mourning." He would often
hold conversation with imaginary noblemen,
but the topics to which he referred were always
past events. Sometimes he would sit for hours
in a torpor, his head resting on both hands;
often he would make his servants sit down, and
would address them as if he were in parliament.

At last, in 1820, Death came mercifully, and
gave the word of release. The lying in state
took place in the audience chamber, where the
yeomen of the guard stood, their halberts hung
with black crape. The coffin was placed beneath
a throne hung with black cloth. Two
heralds in tabards sat at the foot of the coffin,
and the mourners at the head. When all the
public had been admitted, the Eton boys were
allowed to pass through the rooms. The funeral
took place by night, and was magnificent and
solemn. The procession was marshalled in St.
George's Hall, the Duke of York being chief
mourner. About nine o'clock the symphony to
the Dead March in Saul reverberated mournfully,
the trumpets sounded, and the minute
guns thundered. As the coffin passed by,
every spectator stood uncovered. The torchlight
lit the earnest faces, and gleamed on
the towers, pinnacles, and battlements of the
castle. A detachment of the Grenadier Guards
lined the aisle, their arms and standards reversed,