In the following year, 1827, the Duke of York died, and the Princess, was
a step nearer to the throne, but she did not know it. So far from being
reared in an atmosphere of self-indulgence, the invaluable lesson was
early taught to her that if she were to be honourable and independent in
any rank, she must not buy what she could not pay for; if she were to be a
good woman she must learn to deny herself. An incident in illustration,
which made a small stir in its locality at the time, is often quoted. The
Duchess and her daughter were at Tunbridge Wells, dwelling in the
neighbourhood of Sir Philip Sidney's Penshurst, retracing the vanished
glories of the Pantiles, and conferring on the old pump-woman the
never-to-be-forgotten honour of being permitted to present a glass of
water from the marble basin to the Princess. The little girl made
purchases at the bazaar, buying presents, like any other young visitor,
for her absent friends, when she found her money all spent, and at the
same time saw a box which would suit an absent cousin. "The shop-people of
course placed the box with the other purchases, but the little lady's
governess admonished them by saying, 'No. You see the Princess has not got
the money; therefore, of course, she cannot buy the box.'" This being
perceived, the next offer was to lay by the box till it could be
purchased, and the answer was, "Oh, well, if you will be so good as to do
that." On quarter-day, before seven in the morning, the Princess appeared
on her donkey to claim her purchase.

In the reverence, peace, and love of her pure, refined, if saddened home,
everything went well with Princess Victoria, of whom we can only tell that
we know the old brick palace where she dwelt, the playground that was
hers, the walks she must have taken. We have sat in the later chapel where
she said her prayers, a little consecrated room with high pews shutting in
the worshippers, a royal gallery, open this time, and an elderly gentleman
speaking with a measured, melodious voice. We can guess with tolerable