It was in May, 1873, that the most terrible sorrow fell upon Princess Alice,--the sudden, violent death of her little boy, Prince Frederick William (Frittie), aged two and a half years. This dear child had been born during the Franco-German War; Prince Louis had parted from his wife to take the command of the Hessian troops in July, 1870. “Frittie” was born on 7th October, and the husband and wife did not meet again till the end of the war, March 31st, 1871. In the interval, Princess Alice had suffered great anxiety on account of the war, and the danger to which her husband was exposed; she also exerted herself far beyond her strength in nursing the sick and wounded. But this was not a time when a generous nature counts the cost of personal services. She was in the hospital every day, late and early, and besides this, nursed wounded soldiers in her own house. She faced typhus and small-pox, and on one occasion (mentioned by Lady Bloomfield) helped to lift a wounded man who had small-pox full out upon him. The child born during these months of mental and physical strain was delicate from his birth; he had a tendency to hemorrhage which was very alarming, and during his short life he had many illnesses and ailments. He was, perhaps for this very reason, the special object of his mother’s love. On the May 29th, 1873, Princess Alice having lately returned from her tour in Italy, her two little boys, Ernie and “Frittie,” were brought to her room, before she was up, to bid her “Good-morning.” By her wish they were left in the room to play about. The elder of the two little boys having run into the adjoining dressing-room, his mother followed him; during her momentary absence, the younger fell out of the open window of the bedroom on to the stone terrace below: he was alive when he was picked up, but was insensible, and only survived a few hours. No one ever knew exactly how the accident happened, but the horror and anguish of the poor mother can be imagined. It was a blow from which she never really recovered. The Queen’s heart bled for her daughter. The poor Princess wrote to her mother in August, 1873, “Many thanks for your dear letter! I am feeling so low and weak to-day that kind words are doubly soothing. You feel so with me, when you understand how long and deep my grief must be. And does one not grow to love one’s grief, as having become part of the being one loved,--as if through _this_ one could still pay a tribute of love to him to make up for the terrible loss?” All through this cruel anguish she relied with perfect confidence on her mother’s sympathy. In September, 1873, she wrote to the Queen, “You ask me if I can play yet? I feel as if I could not, and I have not yet done so. In my own house it seems to me as if I never could play again on that piano, where little hands were nearly always thrust when I wanted to play.... Mary Teck (Duchess of Teck) came to see me, and remained two nights, so warm-hearted and sympathizing. I