This lady, at the time when her husband was Duke of Clarence and Lord High Admiral, had been accustomed, on her visits to Chatham, to be received and entertained by the daughters of the then Commissioner, Cunningham. As soon as the Duchess became Queen, among her first invited visitors to Bushey were these ladies. At the meeting they offered to kiss her Majesty’s hand, but ‘No, no,’ said Queen Adelaide, ‘that is not the way I receive my friends. I am not changed;’ and therewith ensued a greeting less dignified, but not less sincere. Queen Adelaide and King William kept a ‘state’ at Brighton which had a burlesque element in it. They were the last sovereigns who held a court or entertained friends at the Pavilion--that place of big and little domes, which made Lord Alvanley say of it that it looked ‘as if St. Paul’s had come down to the sea-side and pupped.’ It was not etiquette for any guest (of an evening) to stir till Queen and King retired, which was at midnight. On one occasion, when Captain and Mrs. Marryat were present, and anxious to go to a second party, the King remarked that the lady often looked at the clock. Being asked the reason, she frankly told him. ‘Why don’t you go then?’ said his Majesty. ‘Sir,’ answered the lady, ‘we cannot move till her Majesty and yourself have departed.’ ‘Oh, d--n it!’ rejoined the royal sailor, ‘take my arm; I’ll smuggle you out.’ At the Pavilion balls, after the ladies had kissed the Queen’s hand, the King kissed the ladies, who then passed into the ball-room, where one of the Fitzclarences used to greet them with: ‘Well, has Dad bussed you yet?’ There are other stories told of incidents at Windsor which indicate the difference of the court going out from that of the court coming in. This change required the removal from the palace of a little household, the head lady of which reluctantly gave way to the new Queen. People generally rejoiced in seeing a ‘wife’ installed where ‘queans’ used to rule it; and, when William IV. was seen walking arm-in-arm with Watson Taylor or some other happy courtier, they added one incident to the other, and, comparing the new court with the old, exclaimed, ‘Here is a change indeed!’ No one ever dreamed at that moment that the time would come when party-spirit would stir up the ‘mobile’ against the sovereigns; that the Queen would be accused of plotting with the Duke of Wellington against reform; that stones would be cast at the royal carriage as it bore the King and his Consort from the theatre; and that, when matters went adversely to the humour of the ultra-chiefs of the popular movement, the first lady in the land should be marked out for vengeance by the famous cry in the _Times_, ‘The Queen has done it all!’