In conclusion, let us allow the last years of the life of the Queen to unroll themselves before us.

Her strength had been overtaxed by the physical and moral strain imposed upon her during the time of war, and constantly recurring attacks of fever had weakened her. Early in the year 1882 the Queen was attacked by severe illness.

For many weeks the royal lady was hanging between life and death. The whole nation was full of anxiety and sympathy, and the love of her people and the popularity her Majesty enjoyed was displayed in a touching manner during this time. Poor women even, who had to work hard for their daily bread, gave their little savings to the Church in order to have a prayer said for the preservation of their beloved “Muma Regina.” The Queen bore her dreadful sufferings heroically, and her patience, gentleness, and solicitude for her attendants were beautiful to witness. She always had a comforting and hopeful word for the King, who scarcely left her bedside. The life of the Queen was saved by a successful operation, and six weeks after she was once more standing at her easel and illuminating on parchment.

But though restored to health, her Majesty was more than ever subject to the pernicious influence of the climate, and the attacks of fever returned in shorter intervals. Only a change of air could be of any avail, but circumstances prevented the Queen leaving the country. At last, in the spring of 1883, the King could accompany his consort to Italy. In Sestri Ponente, on the Mediterranean, the Queen soon so far recovered that she could travel to Neuwied and Segenhaus to complete her cure there. The Dowager Princess of Wied had been seriously ill at the same time. With what deep feelings mother and daughter met at last can easily be imagined!

Queen Elizabeth spent nine weeks at the Segenhaus, where her native air restored her youthful freshness and activity, and she could give herself up entirely to the happiness of being again surrounded by her nearest relations. These were, according to her expression, days that had wings and were without a cloud. During her presence the little castle on the heights of the Westerwald became a second Belriguardo. One imagined oneself transported back to the time of the Medicis. Here distinguished relations, artists and learned men, went in and out, and often remained for days and weeks at Monrepos and Segenhaus. Alexandri, the Roumanian poet, brought his new drama to read and discuss with the Queen. HallstrÖm, the Swedish composer, wished to lay before her Majesty that part of the opera “Neaga” which he had finished composing. The artist, Augustus Becker, came from DÜsseldorf with his Roumanian sketches, after which he was going to paint a large picture by the King’s order. Karl Cauer, from Kreuznach, had made a bust of the Queen, and wished to compare it with the original. In the studio at Monrepos, Prince William and the Dutch artist, Bisschop, were painting a portrait of the Queen. On his way back to Oxford, Professor Max MÜller remained at the Segenhaus for some days. Intercourse with this man of deep thought and learning elevates one into the refined and intellectual atmosphere in which he lives and thinks.

The Musical Festival of the Rhenish Provinces was to be held at Cologne during this year. The Queen wished to be present at it. Since that important day in which she and Prince Charles of Roumania had been betrothed, she had not again seen the beautiful town on the Rhine. Now the great creations of sound resounded in her ears, and the recollections of past days were mightily awakened. The words of the following song are so fresh, that it is as if, after sixteen years of married life, bridal affection were still new to her heart.

Wonderfully beautiful were their wanderings through the beechwoods, the mild summer evenings spent on the balcony of the castle, with its view over the landscape glowing in the rich colours of sunset. Every bright idea was turned into a poem or a song, and every deep thought was put down in writing. The hours during which the Queen, either in the castle or under the forest trees, read her poetry aloud to us, will ever dwell in our memory. She is a perfect mistress of the art of reading aloud, and the sweet tones of her melodious voice heightened the effect of the dramatic situations and the deep feelings which she so graphically describes. Those who had the high privilege of sharing the great interest of these weeks can understand the charm which the so richly endowed nature of the Queen exercises on all who are permitted to come near her. This time spent in the Segenhaus was living poetry!

When Queen Elizabeth returned to her country and settled at Sinaia for the hot summer months, the royal pair lived in the romantic old monastery for the last time. The building of Castle Pelesch was nearing its completion, and a railway now formed a communication between Bucharest and Sinaia. Life and activity now reigned in the once quiet valley of Prahova, for, following the example of their King, the Roumanian nobles built themselves fine country houses on the slopes of hills and in the shade of the forest. By degrees the little town of Sinaia arose, whose arrangements now meet all the requirements of a modern watering-place.

The royal castle, which is built in the style of German renaissance, arises, surrounded by the forest, in a gorge at the foot of the Caraiman mountain. This many-sided building, with its arched galleries and balconies, is surmounted by numerous gables, towers, and turrets. The inner building and arrangements of the castle are also very practical, and the perfect artistic taste which reigns is visible in every nook and cranny. Nothing is overdone, though all is carried out in quite magnificent style. The walls of the grand staircase are richly painted, and the panels of the inner apartments are sumptuously adorned with bronzes and gobelin tapestry.

All the windows of this large building are enriched with painted glass, through which alone the light of day penetrates into the wonderful harmony of these apartments. The glass paintings in the music room represent scenes from Roumanian legends which have been immortalised by the poet Alexandri. On the walls are paintings representing Carmen Sylva’s “Cycle of Fairy Tales,” whilst scenes from the Life of a Knight adorn the dining-hall. The smoking-room in the principal tower, arranged in old German style, is very cosy. But the greatest success is the Queen’s studio, from the covered balconies of which one gazes into the deep forests which cover the mountains. The poetical impression of the castle is heightened when, with the twilight, electric light radiates from the inside of the beautiful building, and lights up its lofty chambers from outside, whilst the crystal drops of the little lamps follow the lines of the architecture and make them bright. This castle also is a poem which the royal pair have carried out together in sweet concord.

On the 7th of October 1883 Castle Pelesch was solemnly consecrated in the presence of the highest officials of the country.

After the documents which the Queen had painted had been signed, the Metropolitan blessed the water brought to him whilst the choir sang. Then the procession started and passed through the courtyard, thickly strewn with the branches of fir, from which the scent of the forest was wafted at every tread to the castle. The keys were solemnly handed over to the King before the beautifully carved hall door.

His Majesty threw it open, and the Metropolitan first crossed the threshold of the house. Followed by the royal pair and the long procession of guests, and accompanied by songs of praise and prayer, he walked through all the rooms. Whilst scattering drops of holy water about them, he consecrated the house and prayed for the blessing of God.

When the King had brought out a toast to Roumania at the banquet which followed, he added these words—“Confident in the possession of the love of my people, I have here erected a house of my own. It shall stand as a lasting proof of the firm footing which my dynasty has attained in this country. The Roumanian people are to see herein a monument of the unlimited confidence with which I look forward to the future of our beloved fatherland.”

In the name of the Roumanian nation Alexandri brought out the congratulations of the people with the verse with which in ancient times the peasants had celebrated the entrance into the new home of their princes and nobles.

“May the blessing of God and the love of the people forever dwell within the walls of this house.”

The blessing of the poet has come true! The progress made by the State, which is developing in all respects, and is full of life and power, are remarkable. The King has appointed a sum from his privy purse for a Lexicon of the Academy, which is to be a standard of the language to be employed in writing. In thousands of schools the lectures in Roumanian are held free of charge. The King has also founded a Geographical Society. A longing for culture, for the furthering of the national interest, has taken hold of all classes of the Roumanian people. A net of railways overspreads the country, an active commerce binds Roumania to the rest of Europe, and a mighty army stands in readiness to protect the native hearth. At the glorious storming of the Grivitza fort of Plevna the youthful army first showed its powers. On the 11th of September 1877 the Roumanians had, exposed to a heavy artillery fire, three times endeavoured in vain to take the fortifications of Grivitza. They were always thrown back by the courageous stand their enemies made. The battlefield was covered with the dead and wounded. Then Prince Carol galloped up to his troops, shouting, “Forward to victory, my children.” Inspired by the presence and the voice of their heroic leader, the brave men of the second battalion of Chasseurs again stormed the Turkish bulwarks, and before the evening came on the Roumanian flag waved on the fort of Grivitza! Nearly all the officers, and half of the men, had bought the victory with their life.

In the East the number seven is a sacred number. Therefore the seventh anniversary of this memorable day, the 11th of September 1884, was to be celebrated with peculiar solemnity at Sinaia.

The bells of the monastery chapel were tolling. Round about the courtyard of the monastery stood the second battalion of Chasseurs eagerly awaiting the arrival of the royal pair, who were descending from the castle to the cloister attended by a large suite. The flag of Roumania, adorned with its star, and torn to shreds in the battles, was lowered upon the entrance of the royal pair, who now entered the church. Within resounded a solemn mass for the fallen and a song of praise for the victory won. Without, in the court of the monastery, the military band played the poem written by Th. KÖrner, and composed by Hummel—“Father I call to Thee.” On undertaking the government the King had chosen this as the prayer of the army, and since then it is regularly played on great occasions.

At the close of the service the troops defiled before the King. Then they marched in a long procession through the splendid beech and fir woods to a height which commanded a view over the whole valley. There the camp of tents was erected. Before a triumphal arch the Mayor presented the Queen with a bouquet of roses in the name of the battalion of Chasseurs, and to the sound of the National Hymn the royal pair proceeded to the middle of the camp. Here stood two tents, one arranged for the royal banquet, the other for the soldiers. The royal tent was decorated with the innate taste of the Roumanians for the beautiful. From the outside only green branches and ferns were to be seen, amidst which the entwined initials of the royal pair appeared. Within, the tent was ornamented with some of the Queen’s mottoes which related to a soldier’s life and heroic deeds, and which the officers had translated into Roumanian. There were also verses by the poet Alexandri, who had written them when the people were under arms. Amongst them appeared the names of the Roumanians who had fallen whilst storming the fort of Grivitza. Martial music was played during the repast, and a crowd of people in the beautiful costume of the country surrounded the tents. At a given signal the joyous strains ceased, and the soldiers stood before the tent of their King.

Amidst perfect silence, and in a voice which was heard from far, the King harangued his Chasseurs as to the meaning and the fame of this ever-memorable day, and ended with the words—

“Hold fast the sacred tradition of 1877, so as always to be worthy of the great distinctions which you owe to your brave brothers in arms. I raise my glass to drink to the health of the army, and to the memory of the fallen heroes of Grivitza.” Enthusiastic hurrahs and the braying of trumpets awoke the echoes of the hills. Then the King rose again to wreathe the flag in the name of the Queen, and said—“This garland of flowers the Queen dedicates to the flag torn with bullets and blackened with the smoke of the powder, around which the remnants of the battalion crowded in the hour of danger and pressed on to victory!”

The banquet had ended. The King surrounded by his soldiers, and the Queen by children, went from tent to tent, giving all a kind word or a smile. Then gipsy music suddenly resounded, and as if by magic the crowd arranged itself hand in hand for the famous dance of the Hora, this celebrated national dance of the Roumanians. The royal pair placed themselves in the middle of the circle formed by soldiers, peasants, and ladies and gentlemen. It was soon extended to such a length that a second circle of dancing children formed itself round the Queen. At first the Hora moved slowly and with stately grace, but when the gipsies sang the Kindia, when the violins, pipes, mandolins, and tambourines sounded louder and quicker, the circle was broken, and the people flew up and down in long rows. They surged to the right and to the left, backwards and forwards, without pausing, and with breathless speed. They were all in the highest spirits, but their joy was kept within bounds. There was no disorder, and only joyous sounds resounded in the hills.

At sunset the royal pair returned to the castle. A thousand voices cheered them as they descended the height, and sounded on and on when their figures had long been lost in the gloom of the forest. Soon the braying of trumpets was heard in the still side valley of the Prahova, where the beautiful castle of the King stands near the foaming Pelesch. One torch after another appeared in the dark fir woods. Then the procession of torches came up the sides of the hill and stood before the castle, which, being at this moment illuminated with Bengal lights, shone like a fairy palace in the dark night, the royal pair appearing in the glorious light. The military bands sounded grand amongst those mighty mountains. The performance of the battle prayer was the close of this patriotic fÊte. The torch-bearers gradually disappeared into the shades of the forest. Deep silence surrounded the castle, and broad shadows overspread the forest and mountains. Night stretched her dreamy wings, over the landscape which had so lately been peopled by a gay throng.

A few weeks later the royal pair left their castle in the Carpathians and travelled to Sigmaringen. Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern and his consort, born a Princess of Baden, the parents of the King of Roumania, celebrated their golden wedding there on the 21st of October. All their children and grandchildren surrounded the venerable pair. The Emperor William heightened the brilliancy of this extraordinary festivity by his presence, to which nearly all the Princes of Germany had assembled themselves in the castle of the Hohenzollern. Numerous deputations brought artistically executed congratulatory addresses, presents, and poems. They were all tokens of sincere and grateful veneration, for the whole of Germany had taken a lively interest in the happiness of the princely pair.

But to this joy soon succeeded the sorrow at the death of Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern. After much suffering a sort of apoplectic fit had seized him. His condition became worse, his weakness increased, and he lost consciousness. Surrounded by his children and the faithful partner of his life, he passed away on the 2nd of June 1885, without a struggle. During the sad days when the Prince was slowly dying, the Queen of Roumania had been “a true angel of consolation,” as she expressed it, to her mother-in-law, the now widowed Princess Josephine. Queen Elizabeth had watched and prayed with her at the deathbed of the Prince during the first night, and had undertaken for her the numerous labours of love which in such days have such claims on heart and time.

It was a historic moment when, on the morning of the 6th of June, the mourning procession, headed by the then Crown Prince of the German Empire, started from the castle to the tomb of their ancestors, in which the mortal remains of the last reigning Prince of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen were laid to rest. He belonged to the most distinguished and meritorious men of his time, whose influence the grateful German Fatherland will not forget.

But not alone the family lost a beloved centre in the noble German Prince. The Emperor William bewailed in him the trusted friend of many years, who had stood faithfully at his side in times of difficulty and danger. Prince Charles Anthony had made the first step towards the union of Germany. Having realised with great political insight during the occurrences of 1848 that the position of the little states was untenable, he willingly renounced the sovereignty of his Hohenzollern lands. He handed his principality over to the head of the Prussian branch of his house, and forthwith, as the first German subject, worked with great unselfishness and conscientiousness to help on the power and greatness of Germany. Prussia’s territory now extended to the south of Germany. As a memento of this deed, Frederick William IV. founded the Order of Hohenzollern, with the inscription, “Vom Fels zum Meer” (From the Rock to the Sea).

The Roumanians also bewailed the loss of this noble Prince. They knew that he had followed the development of the country with the interest of a statesman, for its fate remains closely bound up in the family of Hohenzollern. Roumania is an hereditary constitutional monarchy. In the year 1866 the naturalisation of the Sigmaringen branch of the Hohenzollerns was carried out, and the question of the succession legally settled. Prince Leopold, the then hereditary Prince, stood nearest to the throne, and his second son Ferdinand was the heir-apparent of King Charles.

In 1886 this circumstance assumed a political significance. During a visit of the present Prince Leopold and his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles, a weighty affair of State was transacted. The King had nominated Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern chief of the 3rd Regiment of Grenadiers, which Prince Ferdinand now entered as a lieutenant. After his nomination had been read out in the presence of the Queen, all the Ministers, the Presidents of the Senate and Chamber of Deputies, as well as all the generals and officers, the King addressed the assembly. Touching on the entrance of Prince Ferdinand into the Roumanian army, he added—

“This is an honour for him of which I am assured he will prove himself worthy. For us it is a great cause for rejoicing and a surety for the future which the country will understand, for as a member of my family he might one day be called upon to protect my kingdom and to carry on our traditions. It is therefore a weighty moment which now unites us here, and in later times we shall often remember that the 26th of November has a deep meaning. I and my successor, to-day and in the future, will place our entire confidence in the army and rest on its sure foundations.”

Loud hurrahs often interrupted the royal speech, and the touching and important ceremony was brought to a close by the march-past of the troops, during which the Prince of Hohenzollern led his regiment, and Prince Ferdinand with deep emotion took his place in its ranks near the flag.

What feelings throbbed through the heart of the royal lady at this moment, which brought so vividly before her the bitterness of her sorrow, all she thus had to resign, and how many disappointed hopes! This great sorrow had been her constant companion during the last eighteen years—“It has added the battle with itself to the battle with life.”

“3rd March 1886.—And yet I shall never say I would rather not have lived, for my life is rich and full, and though the waves do not cease to beat, they are mighty waves on a deep sea, and the wind which whistles round my cables makes them a harp and sings songs to the world. No; life is still beautiful though it may be stormy.”

What was deeply enshrined in her heart has found an expression in songs and pictures. The Queen has quite lately raised a monument of her lost child which will outlive many a human life, for she has entrusted it to the sacred keeping of the Church.

During the government of King Charles not only the political and commercial life of the country was renewed, but he had regarded it as his duty to save the treasures of art and the ancient buildings of the country from destruction. One of the finest monuments of the Middle Ages, and a marvel of classical Byzantine, architecture, is the Cathedral of Curtea de Arges. Through the influence of the weather, fire, and neglect it had fallen into decay. King Charles sent for the famous Lecomte de Nouy, a scholar of Viollet-le-Duc, to Roumania, in order to restore the church according to the intentions of its founder, as gloriously as it stood nearly four hundred years ago.

On the 5th of March 1886 Queen Elizabeth writes to her mother:—“I have undertaken a great work for the Church of Curtea de Arges. I am inscribing the gospels on enormous sheets of vellum, from which they are then to be read every Thursday as a recollection of that Thursday on which I heard them read beside the coffin of my child. It will be a fine work, and I shall write this book with my own hands, so that it will be the best monument to little Marie. I will paint a dedication for its consecration according to the customs of the Middle Ages.

“The binding will be executed by Telge in Berlin in cloisonnet after my designs. I have just painted a background with a scarlet border. Gold letters with red in them are to appear on this blue background, and on the scarlet edge Moorish ornaments in gold with blue. You can imagine how rich this will be.

“On the first page are four episodes in the life of Marie, and four from the Passion of Christ, on which the words ‘Betrayed’ might stand: ‘Gethsemane, the Kiss of Judas, the Betrayal, and the Purple Robe.’ In the middle is the Resurrection, that is the Noli me tangere of Fiesole, Christ and the Magdalene. On the other side of the page is my dedication surrounded by angels’ heads. In the midst my child’s portrait. She is represented as tolling the Easter bell. To the left Otto; to the right Hermann, Marie, and Franzi; in the middle below StÉphanie; on the right Marie Bibra; to the left Marie Sulzer. Their names and the dates of their death are inscribed at the side.

“The dedication is as follows:—

‘I have made this book of the Twelve4 Gospels of the Passion of our Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus for the Holy Church and Episcopacy of Curtea de Arges, and consecrated it to God as a monument to my only and deeply loved child Marie, who passed to life eternal on Thursday in Holy Week, and at whose deathbed I then heard the consoling words of God.

4 In the Greek Churches of Roumania the Passion of our Lord is read every Maunday Thursday. It is there called the twelve gospels, as the words of the four evangelists are interrupted twelve times with song and prayer.

‘Castle Pelesch, 27th Aug.–8th Sept. 1886.’

“Round the pages I have only painted butterflies, symbols of eternity and resurrection, and three times the song of Easter week:—

“18th February 1888.—The Book of the Gospels of Curtea de Arges takes much strength and time. It contains fifty large sheets of parchment, and will want fifty more. When I am working at it my pen is thrown aside. It is as if my fancy could only work in one direction at a time. Of course I work at it twelve to thirteen hours a day, and finish a page in three days.”

“Et dire que ce travail machinal me survivra peut-Être seul, quand tout ce que j’ai Écrit sera dÉmodÉ et mes grandes pensÉes Éteintes!”

In the middle of October 1886 the renovated basilica was to be consecrated, and the King and Queen were to arrive in Curtea de Arges on that day. The little market town lies in Wallachia, to the north-west of Pitesci, and was the seat of the Wallachian Princes from the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries. The cathedral stands on a height outside the little town. It is said to have been built between 1517 and 1527 by the architect Manole. According to the legend, Manole buried his young wife alive in the foundations of the building, to break the spell which caused the work of the day to fall to pieces in the night. Art critics say that this church is unique of its kind. The Greek cross was chosen for the plan of foundation of the basilica, with a wide dome. The whole building is painted green, gold, and blue. The arches of the windows and their frames, and the numberless garlands in stone which entwine around them, are covered with numerous and ever-varying ornamental sculptures. The effect of these is enhanced by a gold ground and light tints. As symbolic ornaments, little doves carved in stone with bells in their beaks hover over these garlands. The most beautiful harmony of colour and form pervades the whole of this artistically perfect creation. Some steps lead up to the Moorish entrance, the ante-hall of which is supported by twelve pillars. Not far from the principal entrance stands the baptistery.

When the King and Queen arrived, the road from Pitesci to Curtea de Arges was decked with numberless triumphal arches, but the greatest ornament were the people, who enthusiastically greeted their Majesties, and whose beautiful national costumes harmonised in a wonderful manner with the architecture.

From a telegram from the Minister Stourdza to the Dowager Princess of Wied:—

“We have in consecrating the Episcopal Church of Arges taken part in a beautiful and ideal fÊte which nothing could further enhance. Surrounded by an indescribably beautiful landscape, which shone in a glorious light and magnificent autumn tints, the fÊte was intensified by religious, artistic, and poetical feelings, as well as by the recollection of the past, a sense of the present, and a firm faith in the future. The King and Queen were the centre of interest, to whom a crowd of all classes from all parts of the kingdom (above 20,000 people) brought a magnificent ovation.

“The speech of the King from the portal of the church found an echo in the hearts of all present. The book of the Gospels written by the Queen and now consecrated was demanded by the people, and kissed with touching devotion. This day is a day of great importance and wide-spreading influence. We were consecrating a splendid Temple of Peace to the God of Heaven whilst dreadful disorders surrounded us. All the clergy, from Archbishop to Priest, came to the King to thank him warmly for the protection which he had accorded to the church, and for the beacon light which the Roumanian Church had, through the influence of King Charles, become in the East.”

On the 30th of October 1886 Queen Elizabeth writes to her mother:—“The church is simply like one of the Arabian Nights, with its magnificent background of mountains, which are as high as Caraiman. I have rarely seen such harmony of colour. I said to Lecomte—‘N’avez-vous pas trop souffert pendant ces douze ans, pour vous rÉjouir aujourd’hui?’ ‘J’ai travaillÉ pour un idÉal et maintenant que Votre MajestÉ est contente, je tÂcherai de ne plus souffrir.’ I was quite overpowered when I entered the church, as also when I saw my book carried out and kissed, and the Gospel read out of it.

“Those were wonderful moments! During the communion all the little bells which the stone doves carry in their beaks began to tinkle in a light breeze, and the church echoed during Charles’ speech as though it were giving answer. More than 15,000 people had assembled, mostly peasants in their costumes. They rejoiced because I was dressed as they were. In the afternoon they brought me an ovation. When I went to fetch my Book of the Gospels I found the church full of the common people. The Bishop carried it out and placed himself before the door of the church with it. I turned over the pages for the people, who kissed my shoulders, arms, and hands, and crossing themselves, blessed me and kissed the book. Women, children, and soldiers all crowded around us in the wonderful church door. Add to this the sunset, which tinted the distant mountains violet and pink, the nearer hills golden. Next year the railway will run to Curtea de Arges, so that you can be there from Bucharest in three hours. Then of course the posting will come to an end, and all the peasants will no more accompany us with their horses, which is so charming.”

Troublous times for the old as well as for the new home of Queen Elizabeth now followed. The King and Queen of Roumania had also hurried to Berlin for the Emperor William’s ninetieth birthday, the 22nd of March 1887. The assembled people cheered heartily and enthusiastically when the carriage drove up to the Palace which brought the King and Queen of Roumania to offer their congratulations. It was in honour of the son of Hohenzollern, who had founded a kingdom in the East with a strong hand. It was also in honour of Carmen Sylva, the royal poetess.

Not a year had passed when in the early morning of the 9th of March 1888, the Emperor William had passed from his eventful life to life eternal, strong in his simple faith. Victorious in battle and moderate in victory, the founder of the German Empire, the ideal of a German Emperor, his death became an event in the history of the world.

It was not God’s will that the Emperor Frederick III. should reign long and gloriously. With a courage which effaced all the glories of his victories on fields of battle, he patiently bore the tortures of his illness till the last moment when he departed this life! Germany does not forget her hero, round whose brow a double laurel-wreath is bound—that of the warrior and the uncomplaining sufferer of cruel anguish!

The royal Roumanian pair had again come to Berlin for the funeral of the Emperor. Circumstances did not allow of their doing the last honours to the Emperor Frederick. But all the reasonings of statesmen had to retire to the background when, in the course of the summer, a change of air became a necessity for their Majesties, repeated attacks of fever having utterly weakened them. In August 1888 King Carol went to take the waters of GrÄfenberg for a short time, whilst Queen Elizabeth was sent to Westerland-on-Sylt on the North Sea.

Not as Queen of Roumania, but as “Carmen Sylva,” was she enthusiastically received on her journey to Sylt as soon as she was on German soil. She has sung her songs and told her tales to the German Fatherland, and now the German people crowded around her and thanked her with hearty cheers!

In beautiful sunshine, her carriage hung with garlands, and enthusiastically greeted by the crowd, Carmen Sylva arrived at the station of Westerland, which was gaily decorated with triumphal arches. The Queen had taken the Villa Roth, near the Downs, for herself and her suite. She desired her tent to be erected at the most southern point of the neutral shore, for there was the principal playground of the children, and she, the children’s friend, wished to be in the midst of them and their merry games.

The next day she writes to her mother—“The crowd of children surrounded me already. There are children from Berlin and Westphalia, Saxony and Styria, from all parts of Germany. They have built me a fortress, and I tell them fairy tales whilst they sit crowded around me on the sand. I am like the ratcatcher of Hameln—all children run after me.” And so it continues, day after day, for three weeks.

It was a lovely picture when, on each morning, the children hurried down to the shore to ornament the sand-hill on which the Queen was to take her place with flowers, to throw flowers on her lap and bestrew her path with them. She sat there like a fairy queen, encircled by the children. Whichever way she turned, her eyes rested on the eager eyes of children and their joyful faces. A little fair-haired child held her parasol over her whilst she read to them, or told of the hills and rivers of Roumania which she had turned into living pictures in her fairy tales. The deep stillness of the children listening with eager attention, was only broken by the sound of the waves or the calls of the sea-gulls which were poised overhead.

When the royal lady ascended the steep steps which led from the shore of an evening, she walked alone, only accompanied by the crowd of children, who carried after her the numberless floral offerings which had been showered upon her in her seat on the sand or in her tent in the course of the day. Then the Queen often followed the little path that led to the cemetery, that “Home of the Homeless.” Here she decorated with her choicest flowers those graves on whose cross only the words “Stranded hither” were engraved, with the date. After her departure from Sylt, the Queen had a slab of granite placed opposite the entrance with a few verses which point to the Home above, where all names shall stand in the Book of Life.

Her departure from Westerland on the 18th of September was quite touching. Queen Elizabeth had won all hearts during her stay there. Many hundreds of people had assembled at the station to get a last sight of her. The road which led to her garlanded carriage was bestrewn with leaves and flowers, whilst grown up people and children stood on each side. With grateful looks they offered her the last flowers, and the Queen could only advance one step at a time, as there were so many to take leave of. Weeping children pressed to her and weeping women kissed her hands. Enthusiastic cheers for the royal poetess resounded as the train left the station, and did not cease till it had entirely disappeared.

The people of Sylt have a superstition that if a wreath is thrown into the sea whilst one is thinking of loved ones who are absent, they will return one day if the waves carry it back to the shore. When the Queen was removed from their sight the children had committed their wreaths to the foam-crowned waves, and had dried their tears and shouted for joy when the flowers were thrown up on the shore in safety!

We will end our account of the royal poetess by reminding our English readers that the Prince of Wales paid a visit to Sinaia in October 1888. His Royal Highness was delighted with the beauty of the place and with the arrangements made, in the Queen’s happiest vein, for his entertainment. Among these may be mentioned an elaborate series of tableaux vivants, prepared and executed, under the Queen’s personal supervision, by members of her Majesty’s household, and representing the thirteen letters contained in Prince of Wales. The scenes were mostly from Shakespeare, the last of all giving a vivid rendering of the Tavern Scene from “Henry IV.,” in which Falstaff recounts his exploits to the future victor of Agincourt.

We have learnt to know Carmen Sylva’s old and new home, and have followed her through happy and sorrowful days. We have seen that she has inherited her rich treasures of heart and mind from noble ancestors. Her enthusiastic love of nature and her interest in all its phenomena does not belie her descent from the princely family of Wied. She has a decided gift for music, painting, and poetry, with a leaning towards philosophical thought, as also an unbiassed judgment and great modesty, notwithstanding the richness of her creative fancy.

We have also gathered that the Queen has qualities which she not only expresses in her poetry, but that an ideal is carried out in her life. By means of this all-pervading and elevating power which her Majesty possesses, and with which she influences others, this idea has been developed in her labours as a Princess and as a Queen. As a woman, as a Princess, and as a Queen, she is to be reckoned amongst the noblest and most distinguished of her sex. “For not in what we experience, but in our manner of understanding and realising it, lies the deep meaning of human life and what it brings to us. Not many and various events constitute its richness, for in the midst of them it can be empty and vain, and, though outwardly monotonous, it can yet be perpetually changing and abundantly blest. The better we understand this, the more will life itself be our educator and schoolmaster, whose influence over us will be stronger than any other. Well does Goethe say as the conclusion of his deepest and most magnificent conception—

THE END.

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