must "entertain" for her daughter. In 1833 Lord Campbell mentions dining
at Kensington Palace. The company found the Princess in the drawing-room on
their arrival, and again on their return from the dining-room. He records
her bright, pleasant intelligence, perfect manners, and happy liveliness.

In July, 1834, when the Princess was fifteen, she was confirmed in the
Chapel Royal, St. James's, by the Archbishop of Canterbury, in the presence
of the King and Queen and the Duchess of Kent. She was advancing with rapid
steps to the point at which the girl leaves the child for ever behind her,
and stretches forward to her crown of young womanhood. She had in her own
name confirmed the baptismal vow which consecrated her as a responsible
being to the service of the King of kings. Still she was a young creature,
suffered to grow up according to a gracious natural growth, not forced into
premature expansion, permitted to preserve to the last the sweet girlish
trust and confidence, the mingled coyness and fearlessness, pensive dreams
and merry laughter, which constitute the ineffable freshness and tender
grace of youth.

If the earlier story of the purchase, or non-purchase, of the box at
Tunbridge Wells reads "like an incident out of 'Sandford and Merton,'"
there is another anecdote fitting into this time which has still more of
the good-fairy ring in it, while it sounds like a general endorsement of
youthful wisdom. Yet it may have had its origin in some eager, youthful
fancy of astonishing another girl, and giving her "the very thing she
wanted" as a reward for her exemplary behaviour. The Princess was visiting
a jeweller's shop incognito (a little in the fashion of Haroun-al-Raschid)
when she saw another young lady hang long over some gold chains, lay down
reluctantly the one which she evidently preferred, and at last content
herself with buying a cheaper chain. The interested on-looker waited till
the purchaser was gone, made some inquiries, directed that both chains