There is a kindly reference in the same year to the death of the Prince of Abyssinia (son of King Theodore), who was taken prisoner at Magdala in 1868, and buried at Windsor by the Queen's desire. In his Elegy on "poor Rasselas," _Punch_ speaks of the "kind Queen's mother heart." Yet the continued seclusion of the "Royal Recluse" does not escape notice, and the Birthday verses to the Princess of Wales show that it proved a strain on _Punch's_ loyalty:-- 'Tis not that _Punch_--as leal as wise-- Loves less his Queen by closer ties, Though she but rarely glads his eyes From Deeside and from Wight. "The absent still are in the wrong!" So runs a French saw current long; But _Punch's_ loyalty is strong, Be who will wrong or right. The artistic efforts of Royalties are commended in 1881, when Princess Louise and the German Crown Princess exhibited canvases at the Society of Painters in Water Colours. _Punch_, in his earlier days, had seldom a good word to say for the Royal patronage of the arts, and in the same year he indulged in an audacious description of the depressing conditions under which they were studied in Royal Palaces, and of the boredom resulting from perpetual attendance on the Queen in her self-imposed seclusion:-- FROM A COURT JOURNAL (_Not published every Saturday_) 1st. Back from Balmoral. What a relief! So pleasant to be near something civilized again. Dear L---- called early, and wanted me so much to make a pleasant day of it. It would have been so nice. Private view of some lovely frescoes to begin with. Then a quiet little luncheon together, and, after that, to Lady ----'s delightful place, to have some lawn-tennis, perhaps a little boating, and then finish with a drive back to town in the cool of the evening. Of course, I couldn't be spared. So, rest of diurnal programme as usual. Walked with Mamma. Had luncheon with Mamma. Drove with Mamma. Dined with Mamma. On the whole, rather a monotonous day. 2nd to 9th inclusive. Nothing particular. Walked daily with Mamma. Had luncheon daily with Mamma. Drove daily with Mamma. Dined daily with Mamma. So, the fifteen pressing invitations for various things this week had, of course, to be declined. Never mind: I got on with my etchings; but the next book I illustrate shall be called "The New Cinderella." Dear me! if I could only get somebody to write it, couldn't I make a capital picture of the young maid's delight at finding her wretched State-coach changed suddenly into a lovely pumpkin!