It appears that when, after a very hard struggle in his youth, Dr. Chelius had at last become celebrated, he one day received a message from King Maximilian of Bavaria, to the effect that he was the latter’s son, and that the King wished to know if he could do anything for him. With proper spirit Chelius replied, that having done without a father for all these years, he thought that he could get on without one very well in future! We spent the year ’48 in Heidelberg, coming in for all the excitement of the Revolution, with which we children were vastly pleased; it amused us to see bands of men wearing red caps, and armed with scythes, go past shouting and singing, and above all we were delighted with the exploits of the “Free Companions,”--volunteers who apparently found our garden the most convenient place for their rifle-practice. We felt no alarm, even when someone, who was just then standing close beside me, kindly helping me to arrange my doll’s wig, was struck on the forehead, fortunately, as it happened, by a spent bullet, which glanced off without inflicting any real injury. But we were warned at last that we had better leave without further delay, and the return journey was not accomplished without peril. The name of the demagogue, Hecker, was scrawled everywhere in the dust that covered our travelling-carriage, on the box of which my father, disguised as a servant, sat beside the coachman. In Mannheim the carriage was surrounded by a noisy group of men in red caps, who tore open the door, and contemptuously exclaiming:--“Nothing but women!” banged it again. When we reached Biebrich, we found the castle empty. Everyone had left in haste, and we had to go to an hotel to spend the night. This was a cold and comfortless reception indeed--no one expecting us, or even seeming to know or care who we were--in the place where a welcome as warm as it was ceremonious usually awaited us--servants lining the steps, sentries presenting arms, and the Duke, surrounded by his courtiers, advancing to meet his sister and her family. The contrast was so complete and chilling, I might well feel shocked and hurt and dazed, as if the solid ground had suddenly given way under my feet, to find myself so small, so unimportant, so utterly unrecognised--and just in my dear Biebrich, the paradise of my childhood, where, as in Wiesbaden, I had spent my happiest days, made much of and enjoying the nearest approach to being petted and spoilt that I had ever known. This sensation of bewilderment, as of one walking in a topsy-turvy world, was carried to its height by the familiar address of the chamber-maid in the inn, whom I watched preparing our beds. Altogether I received a lesson on the insignificance of worldly honours and distinction, and perhaps even on the instability of all mundane things, more to the point in teaching me humility than any of my mother’s homilies on the subject.