In August the queen and prince consort went to Germany on a visit. They arrived at Antwerp on the eleventh, and drove at once to the railway station. At Malines they were met by King Leopold and his second son, and at Aix-la-Chapelle by the Prince of Prussia, who had come to accompany them for the rest of their journey. The weather was intensely hot, and marred much of their pleasure; but they were everywhere met with a hearty welcome. On the twelfth news reached them of the sudden death of Cart, who had been Prince Albert's valet for twenty-nine years. "He was invaluable," writes the queen in her diary: "Well educated, thoroughly trustworthy, devoted to the prince, the best of nurses, superior in every sense of the word, a proud, independent Swiss, who might be trusted with anything. He was the only link my loved one had about him which connected him with his childhood,—the only one with whom he could talk over old times. I cannot think of my dear husband without Cart! Albert felt the loss so much that we had to choke our grief down all day."

After breakfast the royal couple travelled to Hanover, and were met by the king and queen, with princes and princesses, and a guard of honor, and conducted to the Herrenhausen,—the country palace where George I. was living when called to the English throne. After luncheon

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many people were presented, and at four in the afternoon the queen and prince proceeded on their journey. It was evening when they reached Wildpark Station, and "there on the platform," says the queen's diary, "stood our darling child with a nosegay in her hand. She got into the carriage, and long and warm was the embrace as she clasped me in her arms. So much to say, and to tell, and to ask, yet so unaltered, looking well—quite the old Vicky still! It was a happy moment, for which I thanked God!

"Another five or six minutes brought us to the Potsdam station, where were a band and a guard of honor of gigantic guardsmen with pointed caps, and all the princes and princesses. After a few minutes we got into open carriages and drove up to Babelsburg. The castle was beautifully lit up. The Princess of Prussia and Vicky took us to our rooms, which are very comfortable. It was eleven. Many well-known faces appeared among the servants, and I felt quite at home. We supped with our children, and the prince and princess, and then went up to bed, wishing our dear child, as of old, good-night." The next morning was passed quietly at the castle, and in the evening the royal party drove through Potsdam to the beautiful gardens of Sans-Souci, and visited the palace built by Frederick the Great, in which he lived and died. The queen was charmed with the splendid orange trees at Sans-Souci, some of them two hundred years old, all festooned with vines, reaching from one to another.

Several succeeding days were spent in making excursions to the various places of interest, both in Berlin and the surrounding country. State dinners were given, reviews attended, as well as churches and theatres, and many men of learning were presented. The queen mentions Von Humboldt particularly, with whose conversation she was delighted. The twenty-sixth was the prince consort's birthday, described thus in the royal diary: "Blessed day! May God ever bless my beloved Albert! The band kindly-ordered by our children, and the Prince and Princess of Prussia, played two hymns. I gave Albert all the children's letters. They had all written. Went down to the drawingroom to arrange the present-table, and found Fritz and Louise (Princess of Baden) there. Vicky soon followed, and then we went up to Albert, where we found his brother Ernest, who arrived this morning as a surprise. We took Albert down. My gifts were a picture of Beatrice, life-size, in oil, by Horsley; a complete collection of photographic views of Gotha and the country round it, which I had had taken by Bedford, and which particularly delighted Albert, and a paper-weight of Balmoral granite and deer's teeth, designed by Vicky. Vicky gave her portrait, a small oil one, by Hartman, very like, though not flattered; an iron chair for the garden at Balmoral, and a drawing by herself. The prince and princess gave two bronze statues. Albert was pleased with all. There were two birthday cakes. Vicky had ordered one with as many lights as Albert numbered years, which is the Prussian custom.

"Friday, August 27.—The last day. It made one very sad to feel this.... Visit from Stockmar. Satisfactory conversation with this kind friend. After luncheon Ernest came and took leave, going back to Gotha. At half-past five took a short drive alone with dear Vicky, alas! for the last time. Saw Stockmar once more in the evening; broke up at half-past ten, and went up to our room with dear Vicky. Fritz joined us soon after. We stayed talking together till eleven, happy, but dreading the next day."

The leave-taking need not be described. The journey back to England was accomplished with few delays, and the royal party reached Dover at mid-day on the 31st. Prince Alfred met his parents as they landed at the private pier at Osborne, in his sailor's suit, having just passed his examination, and received his appointment as midshipman.

Shortly after their return, the queen and prince went to Balmoral, where, surrounded by their children, they were delighted to avail themselves of the repose offered by this invigorating mountain retreat. The prince resumed his favorite sport of deer-stalking without loss of time, and records having shot his first stag of the season on the fourteenth of September. The queen had to part with another of her children this year, for Prince Alfred went for a two years' cruise on the Mediterranean.

A.D. 1859. Queen Victoria became a grandmother at the beginning of the new year,—the princess royal had a son born in Berlin.

Shortly after, the prince consort founded a library at Aldershot at his own expense, and filled it with every work of value on military history or science. This is called "The Prince Consort's Library," and has been kept supplied by the queen from her own privy purse ever since. Thus all military officers, who desire to study their profession, are supplied with rare and costly works, which would otherwise be beyond their reach. During the Crimean war, the queen and prince had not forgotten to provide books for the soldiers, which were afterwards divided between Aldershot and Dublin. These were called the "Victoria Soldiers' Libraries."

In May the court removed to Osborne; but on their way thither, stopped at Portsmouth to receive the Princess Frederick William of Prussia, who had gone to England to join in the family reunion on her majesty's birthday.

The queen soon had to turn her attention to state affairs, and on the seventh of June parliament was opened by her in person. An exciting debate, extending over three nights, ensued, and resulted in the resignation of Lord Derby. Then the queen did not know whether to call upon Lord Palmerston or Lord John Russell to form a new ministry, as both had claims to the appointment. She therefore summoned Lord Granville, thinking that he would be acceptable to their respective followers, as well as to themselves. But Lord Granville was comparatively a young man, and in no hurry to become prime minister; and Lord John Russell declined to serve under him, while he expressed his willingness to serve under Lord Palmerston. The matter was soon settled after that, and Lord Palmerston became prime minister for life. His ministry was a strong one. Mr. Gladstone became Chancellor of the Exchequer; Lord John Russell, Foreign Secretary; Sir G. C. Lewis, Home Secretary; Mr. Sidney Herbert, Minister of War; the Duke of Newcastle took charge of the Colonies; Mr. Cardwell became Irish Secretary, and Sir Charles Wood Secretary for India.

There were troublous times in Europe when this ministry came into power; for the emperor of the French had issued a proclamation declaring his intention to rescue Italy from oppression and misrule, and help her to declare her independence. The combat was to be with Austria; but, not knowing how far it might extend, all the other states excepting Belgium gathered together their forces and placed them under arms, to be ready for any emergency. England was pretty certain to remain neutral; but the states of the German Confederation demanded to be led to the support of Austria. A general feeling of distrust towards Louis Napoleon had spread all over Europe, and he was closely watched. Prussia had not declared her intentions; she was non-committal. The emperor of the French particularly desired to fight Austria alone with his ally, Sardinia; because, should he be victorious, he could then make an attempt on the Rhine, with only the states of the Confederation to oppose him.

Austria, once defeated, would feel so indignant at having received no aid from Germany, that she would retaliate by refusing to assist in defending the Rhine. If Germany became involved in the war, Russia would have to declare either for her or for France, and she was not then prepared for war.

With such an unsettled state of affairs, a strong ministry in England became of the utmost importance, and no better or abler leader than Lord Palmerston could have been chosen. There were those in the cabinet who were enthusiastic for the freedom of Italy. Mr. Gladstone was particularly so, and Lord Palmerston had not lost his confidence in Louis Napoleon; Lord John Russell, on the other hand, was distrustful, and the Duke of Newcastle, Sir George Lewis, and Lord Elgin were with him, while the other members were indifferent. This diversity of opinion, in a cabinet composed of so many able men, was good; for it enabled them to look at the question of "a strict and impartial neutrality," to which the queen's addresses in both houses had pledged the nation, from all points.

Meanwhile the war was going on, and the French were victorious at every point. But their victories were dearly bought; more than a hundred thousand men had been sacrificed, and Louis Napoleon longed for peace. His ministers at home were, therefore, instructed to arrange through England terms for an armistice; but, as those proposed by Count Persigny were not approved of in England, Lord Palmerston wrote Lord John Russell: "If the French emperor is tired of his war, and finds the job tougher than he expected, let him make what proposals he pleases; but let them be made as from himself, formally and officially, and let him not ask us to further his suggestions, and make ourselves answerable for them" The emperors of France and Austria then arranged a meeting, which took place at Villafranca, and patched up a peace to suit themselves, though it surprised all other nations, and satisfied none. England knew that the terms of the treaty were impracticable, but resolved to quietly await further developments.

As soon as parliament was prorogued the court went to Osborne, and some days later to the Highlands, where a few weeks were spent with the usual country sports and freedom from care. In October the queen and prince, accompanied by the Princesses Alice and Helena, went to Glasgow to attend the ceremony of the opening of the great water-works there, which were constructed on a grander scale than any in the kingdom.

An early and severe winter set in, and the prince consort took such a severe cold that he was confined to his bed for several days. Nothing hastened his cure so much as a visit from his eldest daughter. She arrived quite unexpectedly at Windsor Castle with her husband on the ninth of November, just in time to celebrate the birthday of the Prince of Wales.

This visit, which lasted until the third of December, gave the queen and prince consort the greatest pleasure; for the young couple were so happy, and the princess was so much improved, that their presence left a most favorable impression.

Before the close of the year, Macaulay, the poet, historian, esssayist, and parliamentary orator, died in his sixtieth year. He was one of the most prominent literary men of his day. "There are no limits to his knowledge," was said of him by a contemporary; "he is like a book in breeches." In 1857 Macaulay had been raised to the peerage, but many years before he had made his reputation in the House of Commons, where each of his speeches was applauded more than the one that had preceded it. His life was a singularly happy one,—though, of course, it was not all sunshine,—and his career was one of remarkable success. It has been truly said of him: "You might lay ribbons, stars, garters, wealth, title, before him in vain. He had an honest, genuine love of his country, and the world could not bribe him to neglect her interests."

A.D. 1860. "We began the year very peaceably and happily," wrote the queen to King Leopold, "and I never remember spending a pleasanter New Year's day, surrounded by our children and dear mamma. It is really extraordinary how much our good children did for the day in writing, reciting, and music." It was by proofs of their improvement in study that the royal children always planned little surprises to celebrate the Christmas holidays, and to evince their gratitude and affection towards their parents. On the twentieth anniversary of the queen's marriage, which occurred this year, they had a series of tableaux-vivants in St. George's Hall, which were witnessed by the royal family with a great deal of pleasure.

During the Crimean war, for which Canada had equipped an infantry regiment, her majesty had promised that the Prince of Wales should visit her possessions in that country. This year the promise was to be fulfilled, and the great railway bridge across the St. Lawrence at Montreal was to be opened in honor of the occasion. The Duke of Newcastle, as Secretary of State for the Colonies, was to accompany the prince, who would probably reach Canada by July.

No sooner did this piece of intelligence reach the United States than President Buchanan addressed a letter to the queen, offering a cordial welcome at Washington to the prince, and an assurance that he would be everywhere greeted by Americans in a manner that could not fail to be gratifying. Mr. Dallas, our minister to England, was instructed to inform Lord John Russell that the corporation of New York also invited the prince to visit that city.

Accordingly, on the tenth of July, the prince and his suite sailed from Plymouth, and, after a very stormy voyage, landed on the twenty-fifth at St. John, Newfoundland.

Meanwhile England was shocked at the news from Syria. Horrible massacres had taken place between the Druses and the Maronites, which at last extended as far as Damascus, where the Christian quarter had been attacked, and nearly two thousand human beings had been butchered. In the mountains not less than three thousand five hundred men had been cut down. The consulates of France, Austria, Russia, Holland, Belgium, and Greece were destroyed, and the fury of the mob knew no bounds. The famous Algerian chief, Abd-el-Kader, was then living in Damascus, and exerted himself nobly for the defense of the Christians,—for which noble deed he afterwards received the thanks of the British Government.

England and France at once took steps to restore order, and were ably assisted by the other great powers of Europe. Lord Dufferin was sent out as commissioner from England, and performed his task with judgment and spirit. Turkey acted promptly too, and the governor of Damascus, as well as the commander of the Turkish troops, with about sixty others in authority, were executed, and peace was restored.

On the twenty-second of September the queen, the prince, and the Princess Alice left Buckingham Palace for Gravesend, attended by Lady Churchill, Miss Bulteel, General Grey, Sir Charles Phipps, and Colonel Ponsonby. They were joined at the station by Lord John Russell and Dr. Baly, who were to accompany them to the continent. They embarked on board the "Victoria and Albert" at half-

past five, and at seven dropped anchor at the Nore for the night. The next morning at five they sailed, and arrived in the evening at Antwerp, where they were informed of the sad death of the Dowager-duchess of Coburg. It was too late then to turn back, so the royal party proceeded on their journey. We quote from the queen's diary:—

"At about seven we reached Frankfort, where, to our regret, we were received by a guard of honor and a band. The Princess of Prussia, Fritz, and Louise of Baden were there, having come on purpose to meet us. Arrived at the HÔtel d'Angleterre,—the same where we were fifteen years ago,—we found sentries placed on the staircase, with whom we dispensed. After dinner came Prince George of Saxony, who brought me a kind letter from the King of Saxony, inviting us to come to Dresden, an invitation which naturally we cannot accept. We remained some little time together, and then went to our rooms.... This sad, sad news (the death of the Dowager-duchess) lay like a load upon our otherwise bright and happy hearts.

"The next morning at nine we resumed our journey. I felt so agitated as we approached nearer and nearer to Coburg. At last we caught the first glimpse of the Festung, then of the town, with the cheerful and lovely country round, the fine evening lighting it all up so beautifully. At five we were at the station. Of course all was private and quiet,—Ernest and Fritz standing therein deep mourning. Many people were out; but they showed such proper feeling—all quiet, no demonstrations of joy, though many kind faces. Felt so moved as we drove up to the door of the palace. Here stood Alexandrine (Duchess of Coburg) and Vicky in the deepest German mourning—long black veils with a point—surrounded by the ladies and gentlemen: a tender embrace, and then we walked up the staircase.... "We remained together for some little time, and then our darling grandchild was brought. Such a little love! He came walking at Mrs. Hobbs's (his nurse's) hand, in a little white dress, with black bows, and was so good. He is a fine fat child, with a beautiful soft skin; very fine shoulders and limbs, and a very dear face, like Vicky and Fritz. He has Fritz's eyes and Vicky's mouth, and very fair, curly hair. We felt so happy to see him at last!"

The next day the funeral of the Dowager-duchess of Coburg took place; and, after that sad ceremony was over, a fortnight was passed in visiting the old familiar scenes in and around Coburg, with nothing of importance to narrate until the first of October, when the prince consort met with an accident, of which the queen writes thus: "Our drawings being finished, we ladies walk down to the park gate, going along merrily, and much amused by a pretty peasant woman, who told Vicky how dirty her dress was getting by trailing on the ground, and advising her to take it up, and expecting our carriage to overtake us, when we met a two-seated carriage, with Colonel Ponsonby in it, who said Albert had sent him to say there had been an accident to the carriage, but that Albert was not hurt, having only scratched his nose; that Dr. Baly happened to meet him, and said it was of no consequence. This prevented my being startled or much frightened. That came later," when Colonel Ponsonby explained that the horses had run away, and that Albert had jumped out!

"Drove back in this carriage with Alice, Colonel Ponsonby sitting on the box beside the coachman. I went at once to my dearest Albert's rooms, and found him lying on his valet's bed, with a lint compress on his nose, mouth, and chin, and poor, good, old Stockmar standing by him, and also Dr. Baly. He was quite cheerful, and talking, and giving an account of his fearful accident, and, as it proved, merciful and providential escape. Dr. Baly said Albert had not been the least stunned; that there was no injury, and the features would not suffer. I sent off many telegrams to England, fearing wrong messages."

Many despatches and letters were received next day containing inquiries about the prince, who was so much better by the third as to be able to take a walk.

On the evening of the fifteenth of October the queen returned to Windsor Castle, and by that time all traces of the prince's accident had vanished. As a memorial in gratitude for the prince's escape, the queen invested a little over a thousand pounds in the names of the burgomaster and chief clergyman of Coburg, the interest to be divided on the first of October of each year among a certain number of young men and women belonging to the humbler ranks of life. These payments were to be applied in enabling the young men to pursue any occupation they chose, and for the young women, it was to be a dowry on their marriage, or an assistance towards earning a support.

On the fifteenth of November the Prince of Wales arrived at Windsor Castle, and his account of the honor that had been shown him in the United States and Canada rejoiced the hearts of his parents. Enormous crowds had assembled at every city, from Chicago to Washington, to greet "Baron Renfrew," as the prince was styled while travelling, and everywhere he was so much admired, and made himself so popular, that somebody said of him: "He may consider himself a lucky lad if he escapes a nomination for president before he reaches his homeward-bound fleet." The most interesting incident of the prince's visit at Washington was an excursion to Mount Vernon, the home and burial-place of our first president. There the prince, Mr. Buchanan, and the entire party stood before the humble tomb of George Washington, uncovered, and then the prince planted a chestnut beside the grave.

An ovation, such as has seldom been accorded to any monarch, awaited the prince both in New York and Boston; and, after his departure, the President wrote to Queen Victoria, expressing the gratification that he and the whole nation had derived from her son's visit. The letter was cordially answered by the queen herself, who expressed the warmest friendship for the United States.

The Duke of Newcastle, to whose care the prince had been confided, had performed his delicate task so well and with so much discretion and tact, that he was publicly invested with the Order of the Garter, as a mark of gratitude from her majesty.

In November Prince Louis of Hesse was betrothed to the Princess Alice, and this event gave much pleasure to the royal parents. The queen writes in her diary, November 30: "After dinner, while talking to the gentlemen, I perceived Alice and Louis talking before the fireplace more earnestly than usual, and when I passed to go to the other room, both came up to me, and Alice, in much agitation, said he had proposed to her, and he begged for my blessing. I could only squeeze his hand, and say 'certainly,' and that we would see him later in our room. Alice came to our room; Albert sent for Louis to his room,—went first to him, and then called Alice and me in. Louis has a warm, noble heart. We embraced our dear Alice, and praised her much to him. After talking a little, we parted; a most touching, and to me, most sacred moment."

A.D. 1861. Before leaving Windsor on the second of January for a visit to Osborne, news reached the queen of the death of the King of Prussia. His brother had long been regent, in consequence of the king's impaired mental powers, and he is the present Emperor of Germany. The queen's daughter "Vicky" then became, and still remains, crown princess.

Shortly after, Dr. Baly, the queen's physician, was killed by a railway accident, and Dr. Jenner succeeded him. This caused considerable sorrow, but it was followed by an event that plunged the queen and her family into deep grief. The Duchess of Kent had undergone a surgical operation in the beginning of March, from which she did not reap any benefit; but no alarm was felt as to her condition. On the morning of the fifteenth the queen and prince went to inspect the new gardens of the Royal Horticultural Society at South Kensington, from which the queen returned alone, leaving the prince to transact some business with the committee. While there, he was suddenly summoned to Buckingham Palace by Sir James Clarke, who had come up from Frogmore to announce some alarming symptoms that had attacked the Duchess of Kent. The prince at once informed the queen, who, without a moment's delay, set out with him and the Princess Alice for Windsor. Her majesty's diary tells the rest: "By eight o'clock we were at Frogmore. Here, Lord James Murray and the ladies received us, and, alas! said it was just the same; but, still, I did not then realize what it was. Albert went up, and when he returned with tears in his eyes, I saw what it was that awaited me.... With a trembling heart I went up the staircase and entered the bedroom, and there on a sofa, supported by cushions, the room much darkened, sat, leaning back, my beloved mamma, breathing rather heavily, in her silk dressing-gown, with her cap on, looking quite herself.

"Seeing that my presence did not disturb her, I knelt before her, kissed her dear hand, and pressed it to my cheek; but, though she opened her eyes, she did not, I think, know me. She brushed my hand off, and the dreadful reality was before me that for the first time she did not know the child she had ever received with such tender smiles. I went out to sob.... I asked the doctors if there was no hope. They said they feared none whatever, for consciousness had left her....

"I entered her room about eight o'clock, the window was wide open and both doors. I sat on a footstool, holding her dear hand. Meantime her face grew paler (though, in truth, her cheeks had that pretty, fresh color they always had, up to within half an hour of the last), the features longer and sharper. The breathing became easier. I fell on my knees holding the beloved hand, which was still warm, though heavier, in both of mine. I felt the end was fast approaching, as Clarke went out to call Albert and Alice, I only left gazing on that beloved face, and feeling as if my heart would break.... It was a solemn, sacred, never-to-be-forgotten scene.

"Fainter and fainter grew the breathing. At last it ceased. The clock struck half-past nine at the very moment. Convulsed with sobs, I fell upon the hand, and covered it with kisses. Albert lifted me up and took me into the next room, himself entirely melted into tears, which is unusual for him, deep as his feelings are, and clasped me in his arms. I asked if all was over; he said, 'Yes!'

"I went into the room again and gave one look. My darling mother was sitting as she had done before; but was already white! O God! How awful! How mysterious! But what a blessed end! Her gentle spirit at rest,—her sufferings over! But I—I, wretched child,—who had lost the mother I so tenderly loved, from whom for these forty-one years I had never been parted except for a few weeks,—what was my case? My childhood, everything, seemed to crowd upon me at once. I seemed to have lived through a life, to have become old! The

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blessed future meeting and her peace and rest must henceforward be my comfort.

"My beloved Albert felt it, and feels it so intensely. He has shed so many tears; he was so tender, and kind, and full of loving affection, of tender consideration to spare my feelings. Albert took me upstairs, and said it was better to go at once into her dear sitting-room, where we so constantly saw her. We did so; but oh, the agony of it! All, all unchanged,—chairs, cushions, everything,—all on the tables, her very work-basket with her work, the little canary bird, of which she was so fond, singing! In these two dear rooms, where we had so constantly seen her, where everything spoke of life, we remained a little while to weep and pray, I kneeling down at her chair."

The Prince of Wales and Princess Helena arrived from London, and were taken by the queen to gaze upon the grandmother to whom they were so fondly attached. Then the relations at a distance had to be remembered, and the queen wrote a most touching letter to King Leopold, "the last of his generation."

The Duchess of Kent was mourned by every member of her household, from the highest to the lowest. Some of them had been in her employ for more than thirty years, and all felt that they had lost a friend.

On hearing of her grandmother's death, the princess royal set out for England, and reached Windsor Castle on the eighteenth. Letters filled with expressions of the warmest affection and sympathy were constantly delivered to the queen, and addresses of condolence from both houses of parliament were voted at once, in which a warm tribute was offered to the memory of the deceased duchess.

The funeral took place on the twenty-fifth, in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, the prince consort acting as chief-mourner, supported by the Prince of Wales and Prince Leiningen. The pall-bearers were the six ladies-in-waiting who had been with the duchess for a long time. The scene was very affecting, and everybody wept. The Dean of Windsor was so affected that he almost broke down in reading the service.

The death of the duchess greatly increased the labors of the prince consort; for not only was he left her sole executor, and had therefore all her affairs to settle up, but he endeavored in every possible way to save the queen any care, and therefore took many of her duties upon himself.

On the thirtieth of April, at a meeting of the privy council, the queen announced the contemplated marriage of Princess Alice with the Prince of Hesse-Darmstadt. On the fourth of May it was communicated to parliament, and a dowry of thirty thousand pounds, with an annuity of six thousand pounds, was voted to the princess.

The Confederate war began about this time, and England was immediately affected by the failure in the supply of cotton from the Southern States for her manufacturing districts. No account of this war will be given, and no further reference made to it, excepting where England was concerned.

In June King Leopold and his second son visited England, and after their departure the crown Prince and Princess of Prussia with their two children arrived at Buckingham Palace. "This happy family meeting," wrote the queen next day to her uncle, "with our children and grandchildren, while our dear Alice's bridegroom is still here, makes me long and pine for her who would have been so happy and so proud. Dear Fritz is excellent, and the menage a truly happy one.

"My second drawing-room is just over, and I have nothing more to do until to-morrow, when I go to White Lodge. On the fourth we go to Osborne." The court remained at Osborne throughout the month of July, and received the visits of many distinguished people while there. In August the crown prince and princess returned to Berlin with their children.

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Meanwhile the remains of the Duchess of Kent had been removed to the mausoleum at Frogmore, just completed, and the queen and prince made a visit there after parting with their children.

The prince's birthday was celebrated while he and the queen were making a journey through Ireland. "This," wrote the queen to King Leopold, "is the dearest of days, and one which fills my heart with love and gratitude. God bless and protect my beloved Albert, the purest and best of human beings." The customary gifts were ready, although the prince was far from home, and all were spread out on a table when he came down stairs in the morning. We quote from her majesty's diary: "Alas! there was wanting the usual gift from that beloved mother, which has never been wanting before. When all was ready I fetched Albert, and the four children received us, and gave him bouquets. But I missed the little ones,—above all baby,—and sadly I thought of poor dear Vicky. Albert was much pleased with the presents, and with the girls' (the Crown Princess and Princess Alice) pretty drawings."

On the last day of August the royal family were again at Balmoral, where Prince Louis of Hesse soon joined them. The circle was increased by the arrival of her majesty's half-sister from Germany, and Lady Augusta Bruce, who had been the Duchess of Kent's favorite lady-in-waiting for many years. The autumn of this year was all that could be desired, and the sojourn at Balmoral delightful in every respect. It was at this period that the Prince of Wales first met the lady whom he married later. The Princess Alexandra, of Denmark, was on a visit to Germany, and it had been arranged that the prince was to meet her there with a view to marriage, in case they liked each other. Every precaution was taken to keep this delicate matter secret; but it was soon discovered in Germany, and then published in the English papers. It met with hearty approval everywhere. "We hear nothing but excellent accounts of the Princess Alexandra," wrote the prince consort in his diary, "and there seems no doubt that the young people have taken a warm liking for each other."

Shortly after the court returned to Windsor Castle, the death of the young King of Portugal was announced. This was a sad blow to the prince consort, who loved the king very much. The queen wrote in her diary of this melancholy event: "Such a fearful loss! Such an irreparable loss for the country which adored him,—for his and our family, of which he was the brightest ornament,—for Europe,—in short, for every one. Highly gifted, and most pure, able, excellent, and hard-working to a degree—

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he was one in a thousand. My Albert was very fond of him, loved him like a son (as I did too), while he had unbounded confidence in Albert, and was worthy of him. It was like another awful dream! Dear Pedro! only twenty-five! gone from this world, in which he was certainly never happy! It is too, too dreadful!"

This loss had a serious effect on the prince consort, who had not felt well for several months, often complained of fatigue, and suffered much from sleeplessness. He continued to travel about and attend to his varied duties, but always complaining of pain and depression of spirits.

The last matter of public importance in which he took an interest was the "Trent" affair, connected with our Confederate war. On the eighth of November the English steamer "Trent" sailed from Havana for England, having on board Messrs. Mason and Slidell with their secretaries, Messrs. McFarland and Eustis. These men had run the blockade from Charleston, in the Confederate steamer "Nashville," and were going as representatives of the Southern Confederacy to the courts of England and France. The day after sailing from Havana, the "Trent" was fired into by the "San Jacinto," and ordered to stop. She obeyed, when Captain Wilkes, commander of the American vessel, boarded the English one, and captured Messrs. Mason and Slidell with their secretaries. This was a violation of international law, and England considered herself insulted. France sided with England, and for some time there was a prospect of our having another war on our hands, besides the dreadful civil war. The prince consort drew up the draft of a letter to our government, in the queen's name, demanding, in mild though firm terms, an assurance that Captain Wilkes had not acted under official instructions, and that the prisoners should be released. The demand was complied with, and the war-cloud blew away very soon. The speedy settlement of the "Trent" affair was due in great part to the careful, courteous though determined wording of the prince consort's letter. But he was ill,—confined to his room part of every day, and felt the extra anxiety very severely; for he was far from desiring any dispute with the United States.

On the night of the twenty-eighth of November the prince had slept rather better than usual, but complained of chilliness when he made his appearance in the morning. He stood by the queen for twenty minutes on the south terrace of the castle, to see the Eton College volunteers go through their manoeuvres, and pass in review before the queen. The volunteers then marched into the conservatory near by, where a luncheon was spread for them. "As soon as they were seated," writes the queen in her diary, "we went in and walked round the tables; it was a very pretty sight. Albert was well wrapped up but looked very unwell, and could only walk very slowly. The day was close and warm; but although the prince was wrapped in a coat lined with fur, he said on the ground that he felt as if cold water was being poured down his back. His absence would have given rise to apprehension and remark, therefore he went out, though conscious that he ought not to have gone."

This feeling of chilliness continued, and other symptoms of disorder followed. The prince exerted himself to talk and to be cheerful, but he ate little and slept less. On Monday morning, December 2, at seven o'clock, Dr. Jenner was summoned, as a low fever had set in. "I was so anxious," says her majesty's diary, "so distressed; Albert did not dress, but lay upon the sofa and I read to him.... Sir James Clarke arrived, and found him in much the same state,—very restless and uncomfortable, sometimes lying on the sofa in his dressing-room, and then sitting up in an arm-chair in his sitting-room." The physicians assured the queen that there was no cause for alarm, and no necessity for further medical advice, as had been suggested. On the fourth there was no improvement. Her majesty found him "looking very wretched and woe-begone. He could take only half a cup of tea. He afterwards came to his sitting-room, where I left him so wretched that I was dreadfully overcome and alarmed. Alice was reading to him."

Sir James Clarke still felt hopeful, and the queen went for a short walk. On her return, she found, the invalid "very restless and haggard and suffering, though at times he seemed better. While Alice was reading the 'Talisman,' in the bedroom, where he was lying on the bed, he seemed in a very uncomfortable, panting state, which frightened us. We sent for Dr. Jenner, and then Mr. Brown, of Windsor, came up, and was most kind and reassuring, and not at all alarmed. But Dr. Jenner said that the prince must eat; that the illness would be tedious, and that completely starving himself, as he had done, would not do."

Two days passed with little change, and the doctors pronounced the disease gastric fever. The queen was informed of it, but not the patient, who had a perfect horror of fevers. "What an awful trial this is," writes her majesty, "to be deprived for so long of my guide, my support, my all! My heart was ready to burst; but I cheered up, remembering how many people have fever.... Good Alice was very courageous, and tried to comfort me."

On the eighth the prince had requested to be removed to the "blue-room," because it was so large, bright, and cheerful, and then he asked for some music, saying: "I should like to hear a fine chorale, played at a distance." A piano was drawn to the next room and the Princess Alice played "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott" and another hymn, while the prince listened with tears in his eyes. Later in the day the queen read "Peveril of the Peak" to him, and he followed the story with much interest. When her majesty returned to him after dinner, she writes: "He was so pleased to see me,—stroked my face, and smiled, and called me 'liebeschauchen,'—precious love!"

Dr. Watson and Sir Henry Holland were now associated with the other two physicians, and for a few days the invalid seemed to improve, though his mind wandered at times in a most distressing manner. On the eleventh a bulletin was issued, informing the public that the prince was seriously ill, though his case was not yet considered dangerous. He could not bear to have the queen absent from his bedside for an instant, and constantly spoke kind and tender words to her. In the evening the symptoms were not so favorable, and great anxiety was felt.

Lord Palmerston was laid up with an attack of gout; but he was kept informed of the prince's condition, as were the rest of the ministers, inquiries being made regularly by them all.

Between frequent changes from better to worse and worse to better, two more days passed, and on the fourteenth, Dr. Brown, who had been in attendance on the royal family for more than twenty years, informed her majesty that the crisis was over, and there was ground for hope. This was good news indeed!

"I went over at seven, as I usually did," writes her majesty. "It was a bright morning, the sun just rising, and shining brightly. The room had the sad look of nightwatching, and the candles burnt down to their sockets, the doctors looking anxious. I went in, and never can I forget how beautiful my darling looked, lying there with his face lit up by the rising sun, his eyes unusually bright, gazing, as it were, on unseen objects, and not taking notice of me." It was true that the prince consort had rallied; but he was not really better, and the Prince of Wales, who, in answer to a telegram, had arrived during the night, had been informed by Sir Henry Holland of his father's state. During the day there was little change; the prince spoke from time to time to the queen, called her "Gutes Frauchen" and recognized each of the children as they came in and kissed his hand.

The next evening the queen was summoned from the adjoining room, where she had gone only a few moments before to give vent to her grief. She knew only too well what it meant. She entered, took the prince's hand, and knelt down. On the other side of the bed was the Princess Alice, and at the foot knelt the Prince of Wales and Princess Helena. Physicians and others stood near in different parts of the room. Not a sound was to be heard within that mournful chamber; the gentle spirit was passing calmly, peacefully away. The castle clock chimed the third quarter after ten. Two or three long but gentle breaths were drawn, the beloved features settled into a sweet repose, and all was over.

After what has appeared in these pages concerning the prince's character, and his qualities as a husband, a father, a friend, it is unnecessary to comment upon the loss those nearest and dearest to him had sustained. But his death took the nation by surprise; for they had not realized the seriousness of his illness, and there was not a home in the kingdom that was not saddened by it. The queen was and is dearly beloved, and her sorrow was shared by her people.

On the morning of Monday, December 23, the remains of the prince consort were removed in grand state from Windsor Castle, and temporarily deposited in the entrance to the royal vault in St. George's Chapel, where they were to remain until the completion of a mausoleum to be erected afterwards. On the eighteenth of December, her majesty, accompanied by the Princess Alice, drove to the gardens of Frogmore, where the Prince of Wales, Prince Louis of Hesse, Sir Charles Phipps, and Sir James Clarke awaited her. A spot was selected for the mausoleum, which was to contain the remains of the prince consort; and the following year, the work having been completed, they were removed to their final resting-place.

A.D. 1862. At the time of his death the prince consort was making arrangements for another International Exhibition, which opened May 1 of the ensuing year. But the public did not enter into the spirit of the enterprise, as they had done eleven years before; the novelty and charm had worn off, and neither the building nor the site on which it was erected were to be compared with the former one for taste or beauty. Besides, the United States were still in the midst of civil war, and the continent of Europe had not yet recovered from the effects of several conflicts.

The queen retired as much as possible from public life; for she was plunged in the deepest grief, from which she could not rouse herself. She did not open parliament again until 1866; then Lord John Russell was prime minister, having replaced Lord Palmerston, who had died during the previous year. It is unnecessary to record the events" of the political world, because they would fail to interest young readers, for whom this work is intended. Besides, it has been our object to avoid details as much as possible, and some events that have been of the utmost importance in their bearing have had only slight mention. Everybody, young and old, is interested in literature and science, however. We will, therefore, devote a little space to the consideration of their progress during this reign.

In the early part of the century, travel by land and

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water was greatly facilitated by the utilization of steam; and voyages across the Atlantic, which had hitherto taken months, now began to be accomplished in a fortnight, and have since been reduced to ten days or a week. Great railroads have been built, embracing thousands and thousands of miles, and intersecting every acre of the civilized world. Telegraph wires have been stretched from end to end of the earth, and even beneath the ocean, facilitating the interchange of messages, and many minor improvements akin to these have been made. The nineteenth century is remarkable for other inventions besides, of which we daily feel the benefit. Of the rapid strides that science has made, we cannot be more entirely conscious than by contemplating the labors of such men as Faraday, Sir Charles Lyell, Sir John Herschel, Richard Owen, Hugh Miller, Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, and others. To this list the name of Mary Somerville must be added, for she is the one woman who takes her place in the foremost rank of scientific scholars.

This is an age of great reforms, too. In Queen Victoria's reign constitutional and parliamentary government has been firmly established, and the system of social science inaugurated, and the penal laws have been modified in England.

In literature, a bright galaxy of names comes to our mind. Among the philosophers are John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, George Henry Lewis, Buckle, and Lecky; while Carlyle, Macaulay, Grote, Froude, Ruskin, and Miss Martineau represent some of the historians and essayists.

Scott, Byron, Coleridge, and Keats were dead when Queen Victoria ascended the throne; but there still lived such poets as Wordsworth, Southey, Moore, and Landor, and later there came into prominence Robert Browning and his wife, Tennyson, the Poet Laureate, Philip James Bailey, Alexander Smith, Swinburne, Morris, Jean Inge-low, Dante Rossetti, and Christina Rossetti. Punch, the world-renowned paper, was founded in this reign, and drew together some clever young writers, while among its illustrators were such famous artists as Doyle, Leech, and Tenniel.

Then we come to the novelists. Who has not heard of Dickens and Thackeray, and enjoyed their works time and time again? Perhaps these two are the most familiar, to young people, of the English novelists of the present century; but we must mention besides Charles Reade, Anthony Trollope, Charlotte Bronte, Bulwer, Charles Kingsley, Black, Charles Lever, Miss Mulock, and Hardy.

This very incomplete list of names, that suggest the various branches of literature, will serve to show that no century has produced so many men and women whose names deserve to be handed down to posterity as the present one.

Thus far, and no further, are we permitted to inquire into her majesty's private life. Whatever we have written has been furnished from the royal diary, extracts of which have been made from Mr. Theodore Martin's "Life of the Prince Consort." Whatever else we might add would not be based upon authentic documents, and would degenerate into gossip. It is left for others, who, after her majesty's death, may have access to her private papers, to chronicle such events of importance and interest as may have centred around her. Let us only express a sincere hope that it may be many years before opportunity offers.