she had angrily exclaimed on one occasion); and Bertie — well, she could only pray MOST fervently that the little Prince of Wales would grow up to “resemble his angelic dearest Father in EVERY, EVERY respect, both in body and mind.” Her dear Mamma, too, had been drawn once more into the family circle, for Albert had brought about a reconciliation, and the departure of Lehzen had helped to obliterate the past. In Victoria’s eyes, life had become an idyll, and, if the essential elements of an idyll are happiness, love and simplicity, an idyll it was; though, indeed, it was of a kind that might have disconcerted Theocritus “Albert brought in dearest little Pussy,” wrote Her Majesty in her journal, “in such a smart white merino dress trimmed with blue, which Mamma had given her, and a pretty cap, and placed her on my bed, seating himself next to her, and she was very dear and good. And, as my precious, invaluable Albert sat there, and our little Love between us, I felt quite moved with happiness and gratitude to God.” The past — the past of only three years since — when she looked back upon it, seemed a thing so remote and alien that she could explain it to herself in no other way than as some kind of delusion — an unfortunate mistake. Turning over an old volume of her diary, she came upon this sentence —“As for ‘the confidence of the Crown,’ God knows! No MINISTER, NO FRIEND, EVER possessed it so entirely as this truly excellent Lord Melbourne possesses mine!” A pang shot through her — she seized a pen, and wrote upon the margin —“Reading this again, I cannot forbear remarking what an artificial sort of happiness MINE was THEN, and what a blessing it is I have now in my beloved Husband REAL and solid happiness, which no Politics, no worldly reverses CAN change; it could not have lasted long as it was then, for after all almo nature pet food. as Lord M. is, and kind as he was to me, it was but in Society that I had amusement, and I was only living on that superficial resource, which I THEN FANCIED was happiness! Thank God! for ME and others, this is changed, and I KNOW WHAT REAL HAPPINESS IS— V. R.” How did she know? What is the distinction between happiness that is real and happiness that is felt? So a philosopher — Lord M. himself perhaps — might have inquired. But she was no philosopher, and Lord M. was a phantom, and Albert was beside her, and that was enough DR REBORN.