appeared to him for the first time in Kensington Gardens, is interesting,
as revealing the child's affectionate disposition. "She was coming up a
cross-path from the Bayswater Gate, with a little girl of her own age by
her side, whose hand she was holding as though she loved her." And why
not, Mr. Poet? Princesses, especially Princesses of the bread-and-butter
age, are as susceptible to joys of sympathy and companionship as any of
us--untitled poets and title-contemning Republicans.

Lord Albemarle, in his autobiography, speaks of watching, in an idle
hour, from the windows of the old palace, "the movements of a bright,
pretty little girl, seven years of age, engaged in watering the plants
immediately under the window. It was amusing to see how impartially she
divided the contents of the watering-pot between the flowers and her own
little feet. Her simple but becoming dress--a large straw hat and a white
cotton gown--contrasted favorably with the gorgeous apparel now worn by
the little damsels of the rising generation. A colored fichu round the
neck was the only ornament she wore. The young lady I am describing was
the Princess Victoria, now our Gracious Sovereign."

Queen Victoria dressed her own children in the same simple style, voted
quaint and old-fashioned by a later generation. I heard long ago a story
of a fashionable lady from some provincial town taking a morning walk in
Windsor Park, in the wild hope of a glimpse of royalty, and meeting a
lady and gentleman, accompanied only by two or three children, and all so
plainly dressed that she merely glanced at them as they passed. Some
distance further she walked in her eager quest, when she met an old
Scotch gardener, of whom she asked if there was any chance of her
encountering the Queen anywhere on the domain. "Weel, ye maun, turn back
and rin a good bit, for you've passed her _Mawjesty_, the Prince, and the
Royal bairns."