weeds, at the splendid show of her son's wedding on March 10th, 1863.
"Two things have struck me much," writes Dr. Macleod, from whose
Journal we again quote: "one was the whole of the royal princesses
weeping, though concealing their tears with their bouquets, as they
saw their brother, who was to them but their 'Bertie' and their dear
father's son, standing alone waiting for his bride. The other was the
Queen's expression as she raised her eyes to heaven while her
husband's _Chorale_ was sung. She seemed to be with him alone before
the throne of God."

[Illustration: Prince of Wales. _From a Photograph by W. & D. Downey,
Ebury Street, W._]

"No possible favour can the Queen grant me, or honour bestow," said
the manly writer of these words, "beyond what the poor can give the
poor--her friendship." It is rarely that one sitting amid "the fierce
light that beats upon the throne" has been able to enjoy the simple
bliss of true, disinterested friendship with those of kindred soul
but inferior station. Such rare fortune, however, has been the
Queen's; and it is worthy of note that her special regard has been
won by persons distinguished not less by loftiness and purity of
character than by mental power or personal charm. She has not escaped
the frequent penalty of strong affection, that of being bereaved of
its objects. She has outlived earlier and later friends alike--Lady
Augusta Stanley and her husband, the beloved Dean of Westminster; the
good and beautiful Duchess of Sutherland; the two eminent Scotchmen,
Principal Tulloch and Dr. Macleod himself; and the Archbishop of
Canterbury, Dr. Tait, with his charming wife. To these might be
added, among the more eminent objects of her regard, the late poet
laureate, who shared with Macaulay the once unique privilege of