the bed where lay the corpse of her only child, with a look of awe and resignation on her features, which made a solemn impression on all who saw her, and sat down to write to her father, pouring out her whole heart in penitence, and declaring her conviction that this bereavement was sent as a visible judgment from Heaven for her cruelty towards him.'

James II. received this letter, and seems to have been touched by it, for he and his little court put on mourning, a mark of respect they were in nowise bound to pay, since, had he lived, the Duke of Gloucester would have occupied the throne from which his grandfather had been driven out to die in poverty and exile.

(To be continued.)

A GLIMPSE INTO A ROYAL HOME SEVENTY YEARS AGO.

On April 30th, 1857, the last surviving child of George III. was gathered to her rest. The finest family in Europe' have now all travelled to their last long home. Few can have heard the tidings of the death of the honoured, unostentatious, and kind-hearted Duchess of Gloucester, without carrying their thoughts back to nearer four than three score years ago, when as the Princess Mary, young, lovely, and loving, she had formed one of the procession in the royal evening walks on the terrace, and prayed morning after morning in the private chapel of Windsor Castle by the side of father, mother, and sisters, for most of whom, as now for herself, the last services of the Church have been performed within the royal chapel of St. George's.

Can we let her be forgotten without trying to collect some memorials of that happy home at Windsor?

what?'

The characters of the master and mistress of that royal ousehold are almost too well known to be repeated. The king, devout, upright, sincere, a most faithful and oving husband, a most affectionate father, where a sense of duty (at times perhaps a little overstrained) did not nterfere. Also a keen sportsman, an enthusiastic farmer, and a great gossip,' his strong sense of kingly dignity preventing this last feature from becoming too prominent; and, it may be, sometimes obstinate, and sometimes a little bluff and inquisitive with his rapid, incessant 'what, The queen, the good Queen Charlotte,' (second daughter of Charles, Duke of Mecklenburg Strelitz,) equally devout, equally kind-hearted, although the unbending, almost austere decorum of her conduct and manners prevented her from being as popular as she deserved. She also possessed a taste for literature and science of which it must be owned her husband was destitute, and a sweetness and graciousness of manner to those she suffered to approach her more nearly, which must have formed a womanly and pretty contrast to the bluff open-hearted quickness of her royal partner. When little more than seventeen, the Princess Charlotte Sophia had left her fatherland and its poverty, to become the wife of the young king of the wealthiest nation in Europe, the king himself being in 1761 little more than three

and-twenty.

Can we think of that union without giving thanks to Him in Whose Hand are the hearts of kings, for the piety, the consistency, the beauty of the example which for nearly sixty years, from youth to old age, that husband and wife set unobtrusively before a nation little used

to such a blessing

?

Even the dress of seven-and-ninety years ago is inthat Queen Charlotte landed in England, September, teresting, so there may be readers who will like to know 1761, dressed in a gold brocade with a white ground,

wearing also a stomacher adorned with diamonds, and a fly-cap with richly laced lappets; her majesty adopting this costume in compliment to her future consort's subjects.*

But it is to Madame D'Arblay's Diary and Letters that we must turn for the fullest and most trustworthy details of that pure and pious court, when its sons and daughters were in the full bloom of youth and beauty. How anyone could have the patience to record such minutiæ may well surprise us, but we, who reap the fruits of such indefatigable industry, should not grumble that this minuteness is sometimes wasted on uninteresting subjects, but be simply glad that the writer found such means to beguile some of the weary hours of her slavery-not those spent in her proper service as bed-chamber woman, or assistant keeper of the robes, to her majesty, but those spent bearing the insults and irascibility, and humouring the whims of poor old Madame Schwellenberg. Almost all that follows may be found scattered throughout Frances Burney's lively diary. The compiler can only hope that more will care to read these scattered notices when collected, than would be willing to hunt them out for themselves.

Miss Burney's first introduction to the king is told with her most life-like vivacity, but is far too long for entire quotation. She was then, December, 1785, staying at Windsor with Mrs. Delany, the widow of Dr. Patrick Delany, the intimate friend of Swift. The king and queen had, out of honour for her character, and compassion for her sorrows, lately placed Mrs. Delany in one of the king's houses in Windsor, settled upon her three hundred pounds a year, and fitted up the aged lady's * Malcolm.

Frances Burney, daughter of Dr. Burney, author of the 'His tory of Music,' born 1753; married, 1793, to M. D'Arblay, a French emigrant; died, 1840. Herself author of 'Evelina,' Čecilia,' &c. the most famous novels of the day.

at their own expense. The 'fitting up,' only such extras as plate and china, but things as sweetmeats and pickles, pleasant e thorough domesticity and minute benevoking and queen.

home their majesties had become constant e queen anxious by all means in her power o Mrs. Delany the loss of her beloved friend, ger Duchess of Portland. So many instances een's tender forethought and consideration for of many years and sorrows, are scattered throughe volumes, that one knows not which to choose action, and must be content to mention the fact y.

illness of the Princess Elizabeth for some time the thoughts of their majesties from an interview Miss Burney, much as they desired it. Still the little authoress of 'Evelina' (a work Johnson was tired of quoting and admiring, and Burke had sat Il night to read) lives in constant dread of this appalhonour coming upon her. After many alarms, and many escapes, and sundry entreaties from Mrs. Delany 7 to answer their majesties merely with monosyllablese poor queen having complained that not only in general as she to find subjects of conversation, but likewise to Support the conversation entirely when it is started-Miss Burney is finally caught by the king playing at Christmas games with a little fellow-guest. The door of the drawing-room was again opened, (Mrs. Delany had just returned to them from her after-dinner sleep,) and a large man, in deep mourning, appeared at it, entering and shutting it himself without speaking.'

In the midst of rapid questions, and (in spite of all warnings) very monosyllabic answers, 'there was a violent thunder' made at the door-the queen! but Miss Burney *For the queen's brother.

dares not escape, it being contrary to etiquette for anyone to quit the royal presence after having been once spoken to, until motioned to withdraw.

Miss P. (niece to Mrs. Delany,) according to established etiquette on these occasions, opened the door which she stood next, by putting her hand behind her, and slid out backwards into the hall to light the queen in. The door soon opened again, and her majesty entered, and after a low curtsey to the king, joins in the conversation, and then listens whilst the king relates what he has gleaned from its frightened authoress, by his little less than persecuting questions, about the publication of "Evelina.'

The queen follows more gently in the same track, ending almost in a whisper, 'But shall we have no morenothing more?'

Miss Burney shook her head.

The queen's apology is surely worthy of the praise Miss Burney gives it: as if she thought she had said too much, with great sweetness and condescension she drew back herself, and very delicately said,

"To be sure it is, I own, a very home-question for one who has not the pleasure to know you."'

Miss Burney makes no remark on the person of the 'sweet queen,' by which fond name she so delights to call her future royal mistress: perhaps even her partial eyes could discover no beauties of person where she discovered so many of mind, taste, and disposition. Cer tainly the only beauties to be found in the engraving from the portrait by Gainsborough which faces the third volume of these memoirs, are the well-formed arms and hands, and long delicate fingers, and a certain general stately graciousness of demeanour. We only learn that the queen always had a small table before her on which to put her book or tea, or when she had neither, to look comfortable, and take off the formality of a standing circle