last travels in a vain search after health and strength.

Withal the world was a light-hearted world enough--not so hurried as it is
to-day, though railways were well established, and the electric telegraph
had been hit upon in this same 1837. Young blood continued hot, and play
was apt to be riotous. Witness the fantastic frolics of the Marquis of
Waterford--public property in those years. He had inherited the
eccentricities of the whole Delaval race, and not content with tickling his
peers in England, carried his whims and pranks into Scotland and Ireland
and across the Channel. Various versions of his grotesque feats circulated
and scintillated through all classes, provoking laughter, and tempting to
clumsy imitation, till the gentleman may be said to have had a species of
world-wide reputation in a madly merry way.

The Queen held a review at Windsor on the 28th of September, 1837. She had
dwelt at Windsor before as a cherished guest; but what must it not have
been to her to enter these gates as the Queen? The rough hunting-seat of
William Rufus had long been the proudest and fairest palace in England. St
George's Tower and battlements are the most royal in these realms. St.
George's Hall and St. George's Chapel are the best examples of ancient and
modern chivalry. The stately terrace commanding the red turrets of Eton and
the silvery reaches of the Thames, where George III. and Queen Charlotte,
with their large family and household, were wont to promenade on Sunday
afternoons for the benefit of their Majesties' loyal subjects, where the
blind old King used to totter along supported by two of his faithful
Princesses; the green alleys and glades of the ancient forest, with the
great boles of the venerable oaks--Queen Elizabeth's among them; Virginia
Water sparkling in the sunshine or glimmering in the moonlight, all make up
such a kingly residence, as in many respects cannot be surpassed. What must
it not have been to enter the little Court town, another Versailles or