Duke possessed a strong sense of humour. The situation was decidedly unpleasant, for the Duke was very formal, difficult to approach, and would give Lady Shelley no opening for further explanations. Things were in that hopeless state when, one evening, Sir John happened to meet the Duke at a party.

"Good evening, Duke," said Sir John in his most winning manner. "Do you know, it has been said, by some one who must have been present, that the cackling of geese once saved Rome. I have been thinking that perhaps the cackling of my old Goose may yet save England!"

This wholly unexpected sally proved too much for the Duke, who burst out into a hearty laugh. "By G-d, Shelley!" said he; "you are right: give me your honest hand."

Thus rolled away before one stroke of humour the dark cloud that had long overshadowed a true friendship. On the Duke's return to Apsley House he penned that "playful letter" to which Lady Shelley refers in that touching eulogy of Wellington which she wrote soon after his death.

It was during Lady Shelley's residence at Cowes that Queen Victoria extended to her the great honour of a personal friendship. As is so well known, Her Majesty always felt a tender sympathy for those who, like herself, bore their sorrows bravely in the solitude of a crowd. Not only was Lady Shelley often invited to dine at Osborne, but the Queen frequently honoured her by a personal visit. We have been informed by those who were at that time in Lady Shelley's confidence, that the Queen's conversation generally turned upon Sir Walter Scott, the Duke of Wellington during the Waterloo period, and upon those European celebrities whom the Queen had never seen.

When, at the beginning of 1873, Lady Shelley became seriously unwell, the Queen frequently sent her kind messages, and would occasionally come

to cheer her with that graceful tact and womanly sympathy which won the love of all her people.

It happened that one day, when Her Majesty called to make inquiries, they told her that they feared Lady Shelley was dying. On hearing this the Queen, without a moment's hesitation, went to her bedside, and stood there for some minutes in silence.

Then came one of those wonderful flickerings which for a brief span rekindle the light of the dying, and Lady Shelley opened her eyes. Upon the Queen asking her if there was any particular thing that she wished for, Lady Shelley with grateful tears in her eyes replied: "I should be completely satisfied to die, Your Majesty, if I might be allowed to kiss your hand!"

A few minutes later-while the Queen was descending the stairs-the intelligence came that all was

over.

Thus passed from this life, on February 24, 1873, one of the brightest, best, and most loyal of women, now sleeping her long sleep in Whippingham churchyard. It seems fitting that those touching words which Lady Shelley wrote in her Diary on hearing of her hero's death, should also be applied to her. She fell asleep! and those who loved her humbly believed that she awoke in the presence of her God.