n never pierce, and somewhere remote from men they
sleep in bivouac round the most splendid of human swords."

Time and circumstances have changed our ancient enemies into our
honoured friends, and the race that fought against us at Waterloo has
cemented its friendship towards us with its blood; and as we look back
over the century that divides us from Waterloo we can now with Mr.
Belloc salute the sombre figure of the defeated conqueror.

Your loving old
G.P.

34

MY DEAR ANTONY,

I will now quote to you one other master of splendid English.

Not every temporal sovereign of these realms has deserved a throne
among the kings of literature. James the First was a poet of some
merit; Charles the First wrote and spoke with a fine distinction; Queen
Victoria's letters to her subjects were models of dignified and kindly
simplicity; but to King George the Fifth by the grace of God it has been
reserved to give utterance to what I believe to be the most noble and
uplifting address ever delivered by a king to his people.

From the day of his accession King George has been confronted with
trials and troubles enough to daunt the stoutest heart, and none of us
can plumb the depth of anguish that must have been his through the
awful years of the Great War. He has been tried and proved in the
fierce fires of adversity, and has emerged ennobled by pain, and
dowered by sorrow with a gift of expression that has placed him among
the masters of the glory of English prose.

On the 13th day of May 1922 he concluded a tour of the cemeteries in
France at Terlinchthun, where there stands on the cliffs over-looking
the Channel a monument to Napoleon and his Grand Army, and around
it now lie the innumerable English dead.

Earlier in his pilgrimage Marshal Foch and Lord Haig had in his presence
clasped hands, and the King with a fine gesture had placed his own
right hand upon their clasped ones and said, "Amis toujours!" We are
told that, "going up to the Cross of Sacrifice, the King looked out over
the closely marshalled graves to the sea, and back towards the woods
and fields of the Canche Valley where Montreuil stands, and seemed
reluctant to leave."

At last he turned, and, standing before the great Cross of Sacrifice, he
spoke from his heart words that those of us, Antony, who love our
country and the glory of its language will cherish while we live:--

"For the past few days I have been on a solemn pilgrimage in