let the heavens advance them speedily to yet a sweeter glory. If there were any better bliss we could win for them or purchase for them, the world well knows we would spare no pains; but as it is, all that loyal hearts can do is to wish, with hearty love and acclaim, every joy short of heaven to the young heirs of all our hopes; but not that for many a happy year. And now the holiday is over, and the stars begin to show softly over the waning lights and voices fatigued with joy. Is there, perhaps, a Watcher in the royal chambers who weeps in the night when all is over, and God alone sees Her solitude—Our Queen! There is not a woman in England but thinks of you—not a man but would purchase comfort for your heart by any deed that man could do. Since the marriage-feast was spread for _you_, Liege Lady and Sovereign, what have not Life and Time done for all of us—what happiness, what anguish, what births and deaths! Now is it over, the joy of life?—but still remain tender love and honour, dear duty and labour, God and the children, the heirs of a new life. Oh, tranquil heavens! stoop softly over the widowed and the wedded—over us who have had, and they who have, the perfection and the joy! Enough for all of us, that over all is the Common Father, whose love can accomplish nothing which is not Well. _10th March 1863._ _Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES 1. Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. 2. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.