cious, for four hours. A messenger was despatched
at once to bring his wife from Plombieres. She had just finished
dressing for dinner, in full toilet, when the news reached her.
Without changing her dress, she started instantly for Paris, but
when she reached it, her husband was in his coffin.

When his will was opened, it was found to contain an earnest exhortation
to his son that, whether he proved "one of those tools that Heaven
fits for work, but does not use," or ascended the French throne,
he "should always hold in his heart, above all things, love to
France, and fidelity to the principles of the French Revolution."

Here is the poor Queen Amelie's account of the death of her son,
written to a dear friend four days after:--

"My Chartres,[1] my beloved son, he whose birth made all my happiness,
whose infancy and growing years were all my occupation, whose youth
was my pride and consolation, and who would, as I hoped, be the
prop of my old age, no longer lives. He has been taken from us in
the midst of completed happiness, and of the happiest prospects of
the future, whilst each day he gained in virtue, in understanding,
in wisdom, following the footsteps of his noble and excellent father.
He was more than a son to me,--he was my best friend. And God has
taken him from me!... On the 2d of July he and Helene left for
Plombieres, where the latter was to take the baths. He was, after
establishing her there, to come back and spend a few days at the
camp of St.-Omer, there to take command of an army corps, which
was intended to execute great military manoeuvres on the Marne,
and which had been the object of his thoughts and employments for
a year past. Accordingly, on the 9th he returned from Plombieres,
and came to dine with us at Neuilly, full of the subject of the
elections, and talking of them with that warmth of heart and intellect
which was apparent in all he did. Next day--my _fete_ day--he came,
contrary to his usual custom, with an enormous bouquet, telling
me it was given in the name of the whole family. He heard mass,
and breakfasted with us. He was so cheerful. He sat beside me at
dinner. He got up, drank my health with much vivacity, and made
the band play a particular tune,--in my honor, as he said. Who
would have thought that this was the last time this dear child
was to show me so much affection! On the 11th he again returned
to dinner with us, much occupied all the time with the camp and
the electi