ess to save her from
the rocks of revolution and anarchy. She found this in Richard Lincoln,
whose name will be ever famous in the gratitude of his countrymen.

In strange contrast to the career of which we have just been speaking
stands out the final pageant of the once splendid court of Britain.
George the Fifth died, leaving no son to inherit his foibles and his
title. The House of Hanover was shorn of male heirs in the nick of time,
for it is doubtful if the populace would have permitted exiled royalty
to indulge in the mimicry of another dynasty. But for the purposes of
our story the King is still alive, since his death took place, as many
of us know, in his eightieth year. There were but few of those whose
vicissitudes we have followed able to tell the tale when the last
Hanoverian, tenacious of vital breath as he had been of everything else,
descended to his fathers. _Le roi est mort_, but the old world cry,
"Long live the king," is silent forever.

Perhaps one of the keenest strokes at the self-esteem of the unfortunate
monarch was the matrimonial apostasy of his daughter. The Princess
Henrietta, contrary to the long-cherished traditions of her race, wedded
in her thirteenth year a commoner, as it was described at court. She
became the wife of L. Pierson Dana, a prominent dealer in hides and
leather, and a man of culture and standing in the community. King
George, with a senile confusing of terms, always insisted on speaking of
the marriage as morganatic.

Concerning those who composed his court little remains to be said. The
Duke of Bayswater was joined by his wife shortly after his escape to
America. They never returned to their native country, but lived very
exclusively in apartments near to the royal suite.

Colonel Featherstone, lured by hopes of fortune, organized a successful
corner in lard, and invested the proceeds in a vineyard in California.
The famous blue seal dry Hanover, which is even to-day regarded by
connoisseurs as a grand _vin_, is a monument to his reverence for
royalty as well as to his talent as a vine-dresser.

One day in late November, when little Abraham was about five years old,
signs of great activity were noticeable about Ripon House. For a week
past the environs had been rife with rumors concerning the return of
Geoffrey to the house of his ancestors and the wealth which had accrued
to him through his marriage with the daughter of the rich American who
had once rented the manor