In the Autumn of 1894 the ex-King of Naples went to the baths at Arco in the Tyrol for his health, while his wife remained in Paris. Francis had suffered for several years with an incurable complaint, and it was reported that his illness had recently taken a serious turn; but this had been denied. Death came sooner than any one expected, however, to the unfortunate monarch, for he expired on the twenty-seventh of December—alone, as he had lived. Maria Sophia started at once for Arco on the news of his illness, but arrived too late to find him alive. Not a flag was lowered in the kingdom of his fathers to mark the death of Francis the Second of Naples, nor was his body even allowed to rest in the land he had loved. In all his vicissitudes, the long years of exile, and the hours of loneliness and pain, Italy had been ever in his heart. Through all his wanderings he had been haunted by memories of the blue skies and sunny gardens of his childhood days. His love for his native land extended even beyond the grave, for in his will he bequeathed a million lire to charitable institutions in Naples and Palermo. Duke Karl Theodor and his wife, with several other members of Maria Theresa’s family, hastened at once to Arco to comfort Maria Sophia and be present at the ex-King’s funeral. It took place on the third of January, 1895, and was attended by a large number of royalties and other distinguished personages. In the bright Winter sunshine the body of Francis the Second was borne to the cathedral where it was to be laid to rest. The narrow streets were thronged with black-garbed men and women, and bells were tolled in all the churches, while the trumpets of the two battalions of Austrian Jägers sent by the Emperor Francis Joseph, to pay the last honors to the deceased sovereign, sounded a farewell. At the door of the church the procession was met by the ex-Queen with her sisters, Mathilde and Sophie, with several of her sisters-in-law, and other noble ladies who formed the band of mourners. The services lasted five hours, and were conducted by the Archbishop of Trent; but at last all was ended, the dim cathedral was left silent and empty, and only the sound of tolling bells echoed mournfully through the wintry air. The life of Francis the Second of Naples was one of renunciation. Little sympathy or affection fell to his lot. He was arbitrary where he should have been yielding, and yielding where he should have been firm; yet during his short reign he was one of the most conspicuous figures in European politics, and he had carried a kingdom with him in his downfall. He was a good man and a good Christian, and, in spite of his shortcomings, a real hero; for while his heart was bleeding, he bore his sorrows in silence and hid his sufferings from the world. * * * * * * * *