On the 30th of January, the addresses from the City of London and other cities and towns of the Empire, many of them accompanied by wedding gifts, were received, and there was a great and of course specially brilliant Drawing-room, which lasted for four hours. On Sunday the thought of the coming separation pressed heavily on those loving hearts, "but God will carry us through, as He did on the 25th," wrote the Queen reverently, "and we have the comfort of seeing the dear young people so perfectly happy." On Monday, the Queen in noting that it was the last day of their dear child's being with them, admitted she was sick at heart, and the poor young bride confided to her mother, "I think it will kill me to take leave of dear papa." Tuesday, the 2nd of February, was dark and cold, with snow beginning to fall, unpropitious weather for a long journey, unless in the Scotch saying which declares that a bride is happy who goes "a white gate" (road:) All were assembled in the hall, not a dry eye among them, the Queen believed. "I clasped her in my arms, and blessed her, and knew not what to say." The royal mother shared all good mother's burdens. "I kissed good Fritz, and pressed his hand again and again. He was unable to speak, and the tears were in his eyes." One more embrace of her daughter at the door of the open carriage, into which the Prince Consort and the Prince of Wales went along with the Prince and Princess Frederick William, the band struck up, and they were gone. The embarkation was at Gravesend. The Londoners assembled in crowds to see the last of their Princess on her route to the coast by the Strand, Cheap, and London Bridge. Many persons recall to this day the sorrowful scene in the cheerless snowy weather. This was the reverse side of all the splendid wedding festivities-the bride of seventeen quitting family, home, and native country, sitting grave and sad beside her equally pale, and silent father--the couple so tenderly attached, on the eve of the final parting. At Gravesend, where young girls, in spite of the snow, strewed flowers before the bride's steps, the Prince waited to see the ship sail--not without risk in the snowstorm--for Antwerp. But no daughter appeared for a last look; the passionate sorrow of youth hid itself from view. Away at Buckingham Palace the Queen could not bear to look at the familiar objects--all linked with one vanished presence. The very baby princess, so great a darling in the household, only brought the thought of how fond her elder sister had been of her; how but yesterday the two had played together.