third son of George III., was therefore next in succession. He married in
the same year as his brother of Kent, and to him also a little daughter
was born, who, had she lived, would have finally succeeded to the throne
instead of Victoria. But the poor little Princess stayed but a little
while to flatter or disappoint royal hopes. She looked timidly out upon
life, with all its regal possibilities, and went away untempted. Still
the Duchess of Clarence (afterwards Queen Adelaide) might yet be the
happy mother of a Prince, or Princess Royal, and there were so many
probabilities against the accession of the Duke of Kent's baby to the
throne that people smiled when, holding her in his arms, the proud father
would say, in a spirit of prophecy, "Look at her well!--she will yet be
Queen of England."

One rainy afternoon the Duke stayed out late, walking in the grounds, and
came in with wet feet. He was urged to change his boots and stockings,
but his pretty baby, laughing and crowing on her mother's knee, was too
much for him; he took her in his arms and played with her till the fatal
chill struck him. He soon took to his bed, which he never left. He had
inflammation of the lungs, and a country doctor, which last took from him
one hundred and twenty ounces of blood. Then, as he grew no better, a
great London physician was called in, but he said it was too late to save
the illustrious patient; that if he had had charge of the case at first,
he would have "bled more freely." Such was the medical system of sixty
years ago.

The Duke of Kent's death brought his unconscious baby's feet a step--just
his grave's width--nearer the throne; but it was not till many years
later--till after the death of her kindly uncle of York, and her "fine
gentleman" uncle, George IV., and the accession of her rough sailor-
uncle, the Duke of Clarence, William IV., an old man, and legally