, hardly
befitting the place, thus written his name--Oxenbow.

You enter the choir, where the installations take place, by steps,
passing under the organ. In the chancel is a fine memorial window to
Prince Albert. On either side are the stalls or seats for the knights,
with the armorial banner of each hanging over his place. Projecting over
the chancel, upon one side, is what appears to be a bay-window. This is
the queen's gallery, a little room with blue silk hangings,--for blue is
the color worn by Knights of the Garter,--where she sits during the
service. Through these curtains she looked down upon the marriage of the
Prince of Wales. Think of being thus put away from everybody, as though
one were plague-stricken. A private station awaits her when she steps
from the train at the castle gates. A private room is attached to the
green-houses, to the riding-school in the park, and even to the private
chapel. A private photograph-room, for the taking of the royal pictures,
adjoins her apartments. It must be a fine thing to be a queen,--and so
tiresome! Even the gold spoon in one's mouth could not offset the
weariness of it all, and of gold spoons she has an unbounded supply;
from ten to fifteen millions of dollars worth of gold plate for her
majesty's table being guarded within the castle! Think of it, little
women who set up house-keeping with half a dozen silver teaspoons and a
salt-spoon!

We waited before a great gate until the striking of some forgotten hour,
to visit the royal mews. You may walk through all these stables in
slippers and in your daintiest gown, without fear. A stiff young man in
black--a cross between an undertaker and an incipient clergyman in
manner--acted as guide. Other parties, led by other stiff young men,
followed or crossed our path. There were stalls and stalls, upon either
side, in room after room,--for one could not think of calling them
stables,--filled by sleek bays for carriage or saddle. And the
ponies!--the dear little shaggy browns, with sweeping tails, and
wonderful eyes peeping out from beneath moppy manes, the milk-white,
tiny steeds, with hair like softest silk,--they won our hearts. Curled
up on the back of one, fast asleep, lay a Maltese kitten; the "royal
mew" some one called it. The carriages were all plain and dark, for the
ordinary use of the court. In one corner a prim row of little yellow,
wicker, baby-wagons attracted our attention, like those used by the
poorest mothe