A word on Royal children from the photographer's point of view.
Mr. Richard Speaight of Regent Street, who took all our photographs except those of the Duke of Albany and his sister Princess Alice of Albany, which were taken by Messrs. Gunn and Stuart of Richmond, speaks enthusiastically of them--and he is now quite a connoisseur of children.
He says he is always struck by the natural and careful way in which the children are brought up. The younger ones are always most obedient to their nurses, and they, on the other hand, are very jealous in guarding their Royal charges. They do not even allow them to sit to be photographed without hiding behind to hold them in case they should fall.
The photographs of the Duke of York's children were taken at Sandringham. They took great delight in the musical and clockwork toys which Mr. Speaight took with him; and when the operation was finished, Prince Edward, shaking hands with his photographer, thanked him for the trouble he had taken.
Here is a small _facsimile_ of the charming cover which has been designed for binding the first volume of THE HARMSWORTH MAGAZINE, which is completed with the issue of this number.
The colour of the cover is a very pretty pale green, and the ornamentation is very dainty in gold and black.
The design is copyright, and any local bookbinder infringing it will be prosecuted. The initials of Harmsworth Bros., "H. B.," will be found on the back and side of every genuine cover, and none should be accepted without them.
[Illustration: THIS IS A SKETCH OF THE PRETTY COVER FOR BINDING OUR FIRST VOLUME.]
This cover can be obtained from any bookseller or newsman, price 1_s._ 3_d._, or it will be sent, post free, on receipt of 1_s._ 6_d._, on application to the Publisher, Harmsworth Bros., Ltd., 24, Tudor Street, E.C.
An Index to the volume is also now ready, price threepence.
Everyone should bind the six numbers of THE HARMSWORTH MAGAZINE, for they make a most delightful, attractive, and interesting volume.
It was dusk on a summer evening, as a tall broad-shouldered man made his way down a path that led through the Vicarage garden at Winchmere.
Reaching the roadway, he turned and, with one arm resting on the gate, gazed at the rambling house with its clustering ivy and old-fashioned windows.