EXTRACT FROM A COMMEMORATIVE SERMON PREACHED UPON THE DAY OF HER DEPARTURE IN THE LORD.

"Oh! blest are they, who live and die like her;

Loved with such love, and with such sorrow mourned."

Wordsworth.

ON the 13th of August, 1792, was born Amelia Adelaide Louisa Theresa Caroline, the eldest daughter of George Frederick Charles, Duke of Saxe-Meiningen, a small principality bordering on the Werra, to the west of royal Saxony, and the least state in all Europe, in size somewhat larger than the county of Herts, containing salt-mines at Salzungen, and some of coal, iron, and cobalt: the capital numbers few more than five hundred dwellings, and is embosomed in green undulating hills; it has been called the City of the Harp, from the soft sweet sounds which the breezes produce in a neighbouring cavern, like the mysterious music of the Æolian harp.

At the age of eleven years she met with that irreparable loss, the death of a good father. From that time until her marriage, her winters were passed in the ducal palace of Meiningen, and her summers usually in the castle of Altenstein.

On the 11th of July, 1818, she was married in the little parish Church of Kew to His Royal Highness William Duke of Clarence; at the same time the nuptials of the Duke and Duchess of Kent being solemnized by the Primate and the Bishop of London at three o'clock in the afternoon. Two daughters were born to her; one, Charlotte Augusta Louisa, scarcely surviving her birth by a few hours, on March 27, 1819; her sister, Elizabeth Georgiana Adelaide, was born at Clarence House, on Dec. 10, 1820, and departed on March 4, in the following year. Chantrey sculptured for the almost heart-broken mother an exquisite memorial, a figure of a sleeping child, with hands joined in prayer, carved out of the

purest marble. Her husband became successively in 1823, General of Marines, and in April, 1827, Lord High Admiral of England, an office which he resigned in the close of the year 1828. Twice, in 1822 and 1825, she visited Germany; with these exceptions hers was an even tenor of life; with straitened means as Duchess of Clarence, she maintained her household free from debt, while she relieved the needy; music, embroidery, and other feminine accomplishments whiled away those hours which were not devoted to practical benevolence.

On the demise of his brother George IV., Prince William, that warm-hearted sailor Monarch, succeeded to the throne, on June 26, 1830, and two days after was proclaimed king. Upon hearing that her husband had become a sovereign, she burst into tears, and then, taking up an English Prayer Book from the table, gave it into the hands of the messenger, Sir Henry Halford, as the first and best gift of the new Queen of England. Within a month after her accession, a little incident occurred which vividly displays her beautiful simplicity of character. At a review in Hyde Park, during a charge of the Life Guards, a lady, frightened by the rush of the crowd, flew in her consternation for refuge to the royal carriage. Upon recovering from her swoon, she found herself supported by the good Queen, who placed her under the protection of one of the generals who stood near, to conduct her in safety to her friends. Her first introduction to her subjects took place on July 17, 1830, when the King unexpectedly presented her to the congratulatory deputations from the two Universities, to whom she gave a most gracious reception. Those who were present in the theatre of Oxford on Oct. 19, 1835, can tell that the remembrance of that welcome had not been effaced. Upon Sept. 8, 1831, Adelaide was crowned Queen Consort. splendid banquet, according to custom held in the Hall, and the superb procession from the ancient Palace of the Kings to the Abbey, were omitted; but amid the pomp and ceremonial within the choir of S. Peter's, the meek grace and chastened dignity of this sweet lady won the admiration and reverence of all beholders. Never was a Court more pure, or an affection more mutual and amiable than those of William and Adelaide. On the morning of June 20, 1837, after a short illness, the king died at Windsor Castle.

The

In both Houses, Lord Melbourne in the Peers, and Sir Robert Peel in the Commons, while they expressed their condolence with her on the loss of her husband, expressed in the most emphatic language the lively regard in which the bereaved Consort was held by all classes and parties in the state.

The late Archbishop of Canterbury bore his public testimony

to the constancy with which for three weeks, without necessary repose or refection, she ministered meekly, and preserved a calm demeanour before her dying husband; and after his dissolution in her arms, bore her sorrow with exemplary resignation. In the privacy of the Queen's closet she attended the last solemn obsequies in the chapel of S. George. Under the assumed title of Duchess of Lancaster, soon after her coronation, she had made a journey to her native land, to bid a last farewell in 1834 to her venerated mother, who had taught her and her sister Ida the blessedness of ministering to the poor, and teaching the young around the royal city all things a Christian ought to know to his soul's health. In 1837 that excellent woman died. This sorrowful event, the loss of her children, followed by the fatal sickness of her beloved husband, wrought a wreck upon a naturally feeble frame, and printed her face with the deep furrows, outward signs that told of the care that was busy preying upon the heart within.

She visited S. Leonard's in 1837, and the island of Malta in 1838. From that time the late Queen Dowager resided in various mansions-at Bushey, Sudbury Hall, 1840; Canford House, 1842; Witley Court, 1843; Cashiobury, 1846; and Bentley Priory, Stanmore, the place of her demise. Her palace in London was Marlborough House in S. James's Park. None appealed to her in vain; needy genius, humble merit, the poor distressed, found in her a ready patron; the great Societies for the advancement of Religion and Christian education enrolled her name in the front of their lists of benefactors; the Cathedrals of S. Paul, Valetta; of Adelaide, and Newfoundland, Capetown and Nova Scotia; the charitable institutions of every town or village in which she sojourned, aided by her gifts, alike won her all-embracing sympathy.

Early

Her health had been gradually declining, and she had in vain tried change of abode and scene, in 1847, the mild climate of Madeira, and in this year the watering places of Kent and Sussex, to recruit her exhausted frame, wasted by one long sickness of many years; the Bishop of London lately ministered to her the comforts and sacrament of the Church. upon the morning of the first Sunday in Advent, all suffering having ceased, she gently fell asleep. Conscious of immortality, she forbade the embalming of earth; wishful to be remembered by all good men, she deprecated the vain ostentation of funereal state; and humbly she desired that, unbroken by the clang of trumpets or the thunder of muffled drums, the voice of her beloved Mother, the Spouse of CHRIST, alone should utter hopeful words above her narrow grave, and commend her spirit into the bosom and keeping of Him Who is the Life of the

believer and the Resurrection of the dead. In affectionate remembrance of her lamented husband, and the gallant profession of which he had been a distinguished member, the Queen intreated to be borne to her resting-place beside him upon the shoulders of seamen from the Royal fleet. We conclude this brief notice with an extract from a sermon preached on that day :

"There was one amongst us yesterday; one, whom we are warned has been taken from the midst but a few hours sinceone, with a single exception, in dignity the most illustrious and eminent of all in these dominions, one departed to await the coming of her LORD. What avails it her now, that the lifeless form was once anointed with holy oil, once, within yon hallowed walls of S. Peter's Abbey, was robed in imperial purple and crowned with the sacred gold of majesty; that the cold hand was once entrusted with the orb and sceptre of a royal consort? All that is past like a cloud or a fleeting shade. Not so the mild virtues, the sweet qualities which endeared her, once a stranger, to a home in every heart; not so the lovingness of the wife, not so the devotion of the Christian, not so the splendid benevolence of her, indeed, the nursing-mother of this Church of England. How many Churches and Sanctuaries of prayer upraised attest her bounty, are her memorial! How many schools, training young lambs of CHRIST, who shall witness to her before the Throne, are the imperishable monuments of her love! How many hospitals and houses of charity have been indebted to her alms! The sacrifice of nigh the half of her annual income could not escape the notice of man. But none may tell of gifts of which her right hand knew not what her left bestowed; none may recount the silent unobtrusive bounties discerned only by the Eye Which beholdeth all things. Hers was a widowhood indeed, devoted to the service of her GOD; a mourning in quiet peaceful seclusion the bereavement that shadowed over her later life: widowed and childless, her tenderness is attested by many a gushing tear, many an overburdened heart of the orphan and her that had no husband, whom she comforted, to whom her name was music and blessing. The head was bared, and the body bowed before her as she passed, not for a vain ceremonial as in a royal presence, but with the impulse of the heart, as to a national benefactor. Pious, her memory is an heirloom and example for every monarch of this country; womanly, she is a pattern to the wives and daughters of this land. If for any, as far as man may believe-for her, with the ancient, we might bind with the coronet of undying amaranth the temples of the royal slumberer,

since it has pleased Almighty GOD of His mercy to remove such a sister out of the miseries of this sinful world. We cannot weep for her, though this nation on the instant shall garb itself in an universal mourning. We dare not praise her, for she, being dead, would speak; she the gentle, the retiring, the unostentatious, would rebuke us with the silent upbraiding of the lip of death. "May I die the death of the righteous, and may my last end be like his."

Dec. 3, 1849.

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"She looks upon the things of earth,
E'en as some gentle star

Seems gazing down on grief and mirth,
How softly, yet how far!
Let her depart!

"Wrapt in a cloud of glorious dreams,
She breathes and moves alone,

Pining for those bright bowers and streams,
Where her Beloved is gone!

Let her depart!

M. W.

Mrs. Hemans.

ACCOUNT EXTRACTED FROM A LETTER OF THE LORD BISHOP OF ADELAIDE.

LEAVING Port Adelaide on Thursday, July 5th, I hoped to reach Port Lincoln on Saturday; but the weather was boisterous, and the wind adverse, so that we did not anchor until the night of Sunday. Thus precluded from ministering to a congregation on shore, I endeavoured to improve time by holding service on board our little vessel, and am happy to say that the privilege seemed to be appreciated by most of the crew. Nothing is more impressive than divine service upon the deck of a vessel in the wide ocean, with the blue heavens above, and the bright sun going forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber," shedding joy and gladness in harmony with the feelings and associations of the day. The harbour of Port Lincoln is remarkable for its safety, beauty, and extent; Boston Island protecting it from the west, and with the crescent horns of the bay forming entrances, north and south, into a placid sheet of water