On the wedding day the Queen wrote: "The second most eventful day of my life, as regards feelings; I felt as if I were being married over again myself... While dressing, dearest Vicky came in to see me, looking well and composed." The Princess Royal, like her mother, was married in the Chapel of St. James' Palace, and things went on very much as on that memorable wedding day--always spoken of by the Queen as "blessed." She now could describe more as a spectator the shouting, the bell-ringing, the cheering and trumpetings, and the brave sight of the procession. Prince Albert and King Leopold and "the two eldest boys went first. Then the three girls (Alice, Helena and Louise), in pink satin, lace and flowers." There were eight bridesmaids in "white tulle, with wreaths and bouquets of roses and white heather." That was a pretty idea, using the simple betrothal flower of the Prince and Princess-for "luck." The Queen speaks of "Mama looking so handsome in violet velvet; trimmed with ermine." Ah, the young Victoria was the only daughter of _her_ Victoria, who as a bride was to receive on her brow that grandmother's kiss--dearer and holier than any priestly benediction. I like to read that immediately after the ceremony the bride "kissed her grandmama." After the wedding breakfast at the Palace the bridal pair, Victoria and Frederick William, drove away just as eighteen years before Victoria and Albert had driven away--the same state, the same popular excitement, in kind if not in degree, and, let us trust, a like amount of love and joy. But this happy pair did not drive all the way to Windsor. The waiting train, the iron horse snorting with impatience, showed how the world had moved on since that other wedding; but the perennial Eton boys were on hand for these lovers also, wearing the same tall hats and short jackets, cheering in the same mad way, so that the Queen herself would hardly have suspected them to be the other boys' sons, or younger brothers. They "scored one" above their honored predecessors by dragging the carriage from the Windsor station to the Castle. The Court soon followed to Windsor with thirty-five of the royal guests, and there were banquets and more investings, till it would seem that the Queen's stock of jeweled garters must be running low. Then back to town for more presents and operas and plays, and addresses of congratulation, and at last came the dismal morning of separation. The day before, the Queen had written: "The last day of our dear child being with us, which is incredible, and makes me feel at times quite sick at heart." She records that that poor child exclaimed, "I think it will kill me to take leave of dear papa!" The next morning, she writes," Vicky came with a very sad face to my room. Here we embraced each other tenderly, and our tears flowed fast."