extremely well--of course I couldn't tell if her sight was gone, as she knew I was coming and I sat close to her. Her eyes were blue and clear, and her memory and conversation quite the same. She thanked me for my letter; said the Duke of Edinburgh's death was a great blow to her. It was so sudden, she had not thought him ill. She had lost three children all very dear to her, and it was hard at her age to see her children go before her. She spoke at once (so moderately) of the caricatures and various little incidents that had occurred in France. I said I was very glad to have an opportunity of telling her that everybody in France (except for a few hot-headed radicals and anti-English) was most indignant at such gratuitous insults not only to the Queen but to a woman. She said she quite understood that--that wherever she had been in France everybody had done what they could to make her stay happy and comfortable; that she never could forget it, and hoped the French nation felt that--also that she would never dream of holding the country responsible for the radical press, but "my children and my people feel it very deeply." We talked about the King of Italy's murder (she was much pleased with the expression in one of the Italian papers "e morto in piedi") and she expressed great sympathy for Queen Margherita--"She is fond of Italy and is always thinking and planning what she can do for the people." We also talked about the Shah and the attentat in Paris. I said that left me rather indifferent, but she answered instantly, "You are quite wrong--it is the principle, not the person, that is attacked in those cases." I then remarked that it was a great pity, I thought, that one of those gentlemen (anarchists, not sovereigns) shouldn't be lynched; that I believed the one thing they were afraid of was the justice of the people. She said, "That is not a very Christian sentiment"; but I think she didn't altogether disagree with me. She asked me about Francis--was he working for diplomacy; and then, I don't know exactly how, we began talking about mixed marriages. She said she didn't think religion ought to be an invincible obstacle. I said I thought with her, but that French Protestants were very strict. I told her it had been said that my husband, who was certainly a very large-minded man in most things, was really narrow about Catholics. She said, with such a charming smile, "Oh, I can't think M. Waddington was ever narrow about anything, I always thought him one of the most large-minded, just men I ever knew." I must say I was pleased, and W. always felt that for some reason or another he was sympathetic to her. We talked a little about the Empress Frederick; she said the last news was better, but she evidently didn't want to pursue the subject. We talked on some little time, and when she finally dismissed me, she said, "I hope you will come back to England, and whenever you do I shall be