windows, narrow, short flights of stairs, and well-carved banisters. There is a general lightsome air, owing to everything being painted in white. But we can have no idea of the effect without, in imagination, supplying carpets and furniture.

Here are the old cupboards, recesses, &c.; there, on the ground floor, are the king's rooms (every room is duly labelled), the bright breakfast and dining rooms. Above, on the drawing-room floor, is the queen's room, still decorated with faded "samplers," and some lean and dingy bits of embroidery.' On the whole the place seems quite unattractive, and draws but few visitors, and it would be well if a collection were made-gathered from the palaces-of portraits, autographs, furniture, and other objects that had once belonged to the king and his family. There should be plenty of such things about.

Here are the little dark passages, with cupboards off them—the maids' rooms-which, in the lack of accommodation, were allotted to the maids of honour and other ladies.

And here, no doubt, was the Schwellenberg's room, and the tea-room, where she presided and received the equerries, Colonel "Fairly" and others. We can see the Prince of Wales, who had taken the command at the time of his father's illness, going round with a piece of chalk and writing the names of the persons on

1 In this room the aged queen, within a few weeks of her death, sat erect, and witnessed the marriages of her two sons, the Dukes of Kent and Clarence. Kew Gardens were then the royal gardens, and there was tea after the ceremony in one of the small houses in the grounds.

the doors.

And a most curious feeling it is to look out on the gardens, a most pleasing view of which can be had from the windows. It seems like looking forth from some cheerful roomy country house, for it does not deserve the title of palace, and there are many good houses close by just as large.

The most curious feature is the forlorn solitude of the old palace. Though it was a Sunday and the gardens were crowded, no one seemed to care for the place or for its royal ghosts, or to know anything about them; its doors, thrown wide open, attracted few visitors; a stray commissionaire looked on gloomily.

In July the queen found herself better, as she fancied, and went out for a drive, but was taken ill. The carriage had to be stopped, and the suffering lady was brought back at a slow pace. By the exertions of the doctors she was fitted to go through the last of these rather lugubrious weddings-those of the Dukes of Clarence and Kent.

By August she had improved, and again began to dream of going to Windsor, but a fresh attack came on, which, however, "subsided," we are told, "through the skill and exertions of her Majesty's physicians."

A great comfort was the arrival of letters from her newly-married daughter, the Princess of Hesse-Homburg. During this crisis nothing could exceed the affectionate anxiety of such of her children as were at a distance, who received, through the channel of the faithful Lady Harcourt, constant reports of their mother's state.

One wrote that she had small hopes of seeing her sister, though she was sure we should be better together when the dreadful event takes place.

"In few countries people meet with such an example as that set before them by the queen and my most amiable, good sisters who have sacrificed every earthly comfort to attend to their aged parents and contribute to make their lives pleasant.

"You are, dear Lady Harcourt, perfectly right in saying that the queen is the great link of the chain; and I fear, should one drop off, that much misery would come. In all numerous families there are a variety of opinions, which are softened when there is a person at the head of them whom all look up to. Through their influence a sort of friendly unanimity is preserved; but should they fail, all draw different ways, and outward union is no more thought of.

"The more I reflect on Mary's situation and mine, the more I regret my other sisters not having been equally fortunate; as I am convinced they would all have been happier had they been properly established; and they are so good and amiable in their different ways, that they would have been a blessing in every family.

"I hope you will forgive the incoherency of this scrawl, but my heart is so full that I can hardly do anything but cry or pray. Indeed, I am generally a melancholy being since the death of my husband."

She wrote again to her friend on October 28th: There was dreadful news from England, and no hopes of my dear

mother's ever leaving Kew. Her being there from the beginning vexed me, as I looked on the place as very unwholesome and damp. Most deeply do I trust will every branch of our family feel your great kindness in staying with the queen at such a time; your presence is a cordial to them all, and a real source of comfort to poor Augusta, who from her great shyness stands more in need of areal steady friend than the rest of her sisters. The account you are so good as to give me of Mary's character gives me great satisfaction. I always thought her mild, good, and amiable, but was less intimate with her than with my other sisters. I trust that her good heart will lead her to exert her influence with the regent for the advantage of Augusta and Sophia, who, I hope, will determine on having separate establishments, as, though both amiable, their dispositions and tastes. are too different for them to be perfectly comfortable if they were to live together."

On November 13th: "The gracious, affectionate message our dear mother has sent us is calculated to soothe our minds and to make us all doubly feel the very severe loss she will be, not only to her afflicted children, but also to the nation.

"The resignation and courage with which she has bore her being acquainted with her very precarious situation is a great comfort to me, as I was quite wretched at her leaving this world without her mind being prepared for the awful change-not that I am not convinced of the mercy of God to all His creatures, and particularly to a

S

being who has led so exemplary a life as the dear queen ; but still the most innocent soul must be anxious to devote some time to prayer before they expire, and to take leave of their children."

"My dearest Lady Harcourt," wrote the Princess Royal, Queen Dowager of Wurtemburg, on September 17th, "the attachment you have ever, my dear madam, proved to my mother, must endear you to all her children; and it is a great comfort to me to think you are with her." She was also glad to learn" that the regent is so very dutiful to the queen and kind to my sisters. I regret much the queen's not being able to see my brothers, and I think it a dreadful symptom. I join with you, dearest Lady Harcourt, in looking on the day that will deprive us of the best of mothers as a most fatal one for Great Britain. Certainly the queen's example has done inconceivable good, and I am the more convinced of this by seeing daily how much is done by those whose intentions are not bad, but from being quite inconsiderate, and from the desire of enlarging their circle, admit all sorts of people into their society.

"It grieves me to hear that poor, dear Sophia is so seriously ill, and I fear she will not long survive our beloved mother."

The Princesses Mary and Augusta were always with their mother, attending her almost day and night, and Lady Harcourt finished a long course of devotion by her