outh,
and seems to youth itself more precious than any of its own possessions.
Our empire, never so brilliant as a woman's in its prime, is of stuff
more durable and less shaken by the wind of Time's fluttering garment
as he passes by.

My confessor came to see me sometimes. He was an eminent divine,
nominated to his post by Hammerfeldt in reward, I believe, for some
political usefulness. I do not think he saw far into a child's heart, or
perhaps I was not like most children. He was always comforting me,
telling me not to be afraid, that God was merciful, Christ full of love,
and the saints praying for me. Now I was not in the least afraid; I was
very curious about death--I had never seen it--but I was, as I have
said, more curious about the world I should leave behind. I wanted to
know what would be done when I was dead, and where I was to be buried.
Would they fire the guns and parade the troops? I did not rise to the
conception of myself, not knowing anything of what they did. I thought I
should be there somehow, looking on from heaven; and I think that I
rather enjoyed the prospect. A child is very self-centred; I had no
doubt that I should be the object of much attention in heaven on that
day at least. I hinted something of what was passing in my mind to the
confessor. He did not appear to follow the drift of my thoughts. He told
me again that I had been a good boy, and that now, if I prayed and was
sorry for my faults, I should be happy and should please God. This did
not touch the point that engaged my attention. I tried whether my mother
could help me, and I was surprised when the tears started into her eyes,
and she bade me, almost roughly, to be quiet. However, when Victoria
came we talked it all over. Victoria cried a little, but she was quite
clear as to her own position in the procession, and we had rather an
animated dispute about it. She said also that some one in heaven would
hold me, and we differed again as to the celestial personage in whose
lap I was to sit. I am afraid that here our imaginations were assisted
by the picture of the Holy Family in the chapel of the Schloss.

Not the least tiresome incident of this time was that Krak felt it her
duty to display affection. I do not mean to assert that Krak was not and
had not been all along fond of me, but in ordinary seasons to feel
affection was with Krak no reason at all for displaying it. I do more
justice to Krak now; then I did not appreciate the