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"I am never tempted to conceal any conviction from the Queen, for I feel she sympathises with what is true, and likes the speaker to utter the truth exactly as he believes it. . . . All has passed well, that is to say, God enabled me to speak in private and in public to the Queen, in such a way as seemed to me to be truth, the truth in God's sight, that which I believe she needed, though I feel it would be very trying to her spirit to receive it. And what fills me with deepest thanksgiving is, that she has received it, and written to me such a kind, tender letter of thanks for it, which shall be treasured in my heart while I live.

"After dinner I was summoned unexpectedly to the Queen's room. She was alone. She met me, and, with an unutterably sad expression, which filled my eyes with tears, at once began to speak about the Prince. It is impossible for me to recall distinctly the sequence or substance of that long conversation. She spoke of his excellences, his love, his cheerfulness, how he was everything to her. She said she never shut her eyes to trials, but liked to look them in the face; how she would never shrink from duty, but that all was at present done mechanically; that her highest ideas of purity and love were obtained from him, and that God could not be displeased with her love. But there was nothing morbid in her grief. I spoke freely to her about all I felt regarding him-the love of the nation and their sympathy-and took every opportunity of bringing before her the reality of God's love and sympathy, her noble calling as a Queen, the value of her life to the nation, the blessedness of prayer."

The Queen tried to soothe her own sorrow by mitigating the sorrows of others. In Balmoral she frequently visited the sick and the dying. It was a beautiful picture that was made by the Queen, dressed in deep mourning, sitting with her Bible in her hands, reading to an old man whose life was passing away. She delighted to perform such services for

the poor. An old widow's cottage was often graced by her presence, and she rejoiced to carry, in her own arms, parcels of warm material, to increase the comforts of the afflicted.

On one occasion her Majesty went to Netley Hospital, to see the sick and wounded there. Seven years before, in company with the Prince Consort, she had laid the first stone. When she proposed to go, after her trouble, every one was glad, and the visit seemed to bring some consolation to her own heart. She passed through the wards, looking with kindliness at the men, taking the greatest interest in their comfort, and speaking gentle words to them. One old man, who had served in India, and who was dying, said to her, "I thank God that He has allowed me to live long enough to see your Majesty with my own eyes." Both the Queen and the Princess Alice were deeply affected. The appearance of her Majesty during this visit is described as deeply interesting. "Her face bore the marks of a heartfelt

and abiding sorrow.

Her smile was, however, as gracious as ever, and her voice, though low and very gentle, had all its old sweetness and clearness."

Affliction and death always move the heart of the Queen to pity. After the death of President Lincoln she wrote a long letter to his widow, which her son described as "the outgushing of a woman's heartfelt sympathy." The widowed heart can, indeed, feel for all widows, and few feel more than the Queen. The Chaplain of the Forces at Aldershot told the following story at a meeting at Cambridge :—" The Incumbent of Osborne had occasion to visit an aged parishioner. Upon his arrival at the house, as he entered the door where the invalid was, he found, sitting by the bedside, a lady in deep mourning, reading the word of God. He was about to retire, when the lady remarked, "Pray remain. I should not wish the invalid to lose the comfort which a clergyman might afford.' The lady retired, and the clergyman found lying on the bed a book, with texts of

Scripture adapted to the sick; and he found that out of that book portions of Scripture had been read by the lady in black. That lady was the Queen of England."

There have been many memorials raised to Prince Albert. The Queen herself inaugurated the beautiful one in South Kensington Museum, and in many towns in England his memory is perpetuated. But the best of all memorials is the Albert Medal, a new decoration instituted by the Queen, intended to be awarded to persons who should endanger their own lives in saving, or endeavouring to save, the lives of others from shipwreck or other perils of the sea. It consists of an oval-shaped badge of gold, enamelled in dark blue, on which is a monogram, composed of the letters V. and A. interlaced, with an anchor erect in gold, surmounted with a garter in bronze, on which is inscribed in raised gold letters, "For gallantry in saving life at sea.”

To show that the Queen neglected none of her duties, we quote some words of the Duke of Argyle on the Queen and public affairs:-"It is a remarkable thing, as it has often appeared to me, how ill-informed many persons are on the practical working of that constitutional government under which we live. Many may, perhaps, recollect that some years ago, in consequence of a remarkable political incident, some explanations were made in the House of Commons upon this subject, and it really appeared almost as if many persons in this country then learned for the first time that the Sovereign of England is not, and never has been, a mere nominal sovereign; that the sovereigns of this country do take, and are expected to take, an active personal share in that government which is conducted in their name.

"I think it a circumstance worthy of observation, and which ought to be known to all the people of this country, that during all the years of the Queen's affliction, during which she has lived necessarily in comparative retirement, she has omitted no part of that public duty which concerns

her as Sovereign of this country; that on no occasion during her grief has she struck work, so to speak, in those public duties which belong to her exalted position; and I am sure that when the Queen re-appears again on more public occasions, the people of this country will regard her only with increased affection, from the recollection they will have that during all the time of her care and sorrow, she has devoted herself, without one day's intermission, to those cares of government which belong to her position as Sovereign of this country."

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CHAPTER XX.

The Marriages of the Princess Alice and the Prince of Wales.

"Break, happy land, into earlier flowers!

Make music, Oh bird, in the new-budded bowers!

Blazon your mottoes of blessing and prayer,

Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours!

The sea-king's daughter, as happy as fair,
Blissful bride of a blissful heir;

Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea-
Oh joy to the people, and joy to the throne,
Come to us, love us, and make us your own;
For Saxon, or Dane, or Norman, we
Teuton, or Celt, or whatever we be,

We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,
Alexandra!

N the 1st of July 1862, the Queen and the royal family, and a few invited guests, were present at the marriage of the Princess Alice.

It had been postponed in consequence of the death of her father, and it was a very quiet wedding. The Archbishop of York married the Princess, and she and her

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