for him to be present, but he had felt it to be his duty, and he had made
the effort. This was a man who was always facing what was hard, always
struggling and overcoming in the name of right. The consequence was that,
even in his youth, all connected with him turned to him as to a natural
stay. We have a still better idea of what the victory cost him when we
read, in the "Life of the Prince Consort," it was not till a great
misfortune happened to her that Prince Leopold "had the courage to look
into the blooming face of his infant niece." With what manly pity and
tenderness he overcame his reluctance, and how he was rewarded, we all
know.

In December, 1819, the Duke and Duchess of Kent went for sea-air to
Woolbrook Cottage, Sidmouth, Devonshire.

The first baby is always of consequence in a household, but of how much
consequence this baby was may be gleaned by the circumstance that a
startling little incident concerning the child made sufficient mark to
survive and be registered by a future chronicler. A boy shooting sparrows
fired unwittingly so near the house that the shot shattered one of the
windows of the nursery, and passed close to the head of the child in the
nurse's arms. Precious baby-head, that was one day to wear, with honour, a
venerable crown, to be thus lightly threatened at the very outset! One can
fancy the terror of the nurse, the distress of the Duchess, the fright and
ire of the Duke, the horror and humiliation of the unhappy offender, with
the gradual cooling down into magnanimous amnesty--or at most dignified
rebuke, mollified by penitent tears into reassuring kindness, and just a
little quiver of half-affronted, half-nervous laughter.

But there was no more room for laughter at false alarms at Woolbrook
Cottage. Within a month the Duke was seized with the illness which ended