sabre, and sabretache; in fact, anything that she and the Horse Guards might agree upon. Consequently, reader, remember for your life never to say one word, nor suffer any tailor to say one word, against those Wellington trousers made in the chestnut forest; for, understand that the Papal indulgence, as to this point, runs backwards as well as forwards; it is equally shocking and heretical to murmur against trousers in the forgotten rear or against trousers yet to come. From Rome, Kate returned to Spain. She even went to St. Sebastian's--to the city, but--whether it was that her heart failed her or not--never to the convent. She roamed up and down; everywhere she was welcome-- everywhere an honored guest; but everywhere restless. The poor and humble never ceased from their admiration of her; and amongst the rich and aristocratic of Spain, with the King at their head, Kate found especial love from two classes of men. The Cardinals and Bishops all doated upon her--as their daughter that was returning. The military men all doated upon her--as their sister that was retiring. Some time or other, when I am allowed more elbow-room, I will tell you why it is that I myself love this Kate. Now, at this moment, when it is necessary for me to close, if I allow you one question before laying down my pen--if I say, 'Come now, be quick, ask anything you _have_ to ask, for, in one minute, I am going to write _Finis_, after which (unless the Queen wished it) I could not add a syllable'--twenty to one, I guess what your question will be. You will ask me, What became of Kate? What was her end?