Mrs Oliphant remembers of having in her own youth seen the Princess Victoria, and says: 'The calm full look of her eyes affected me. Those eyes were very blue, serene, still, looking at you with a tranquil breadth of expression which, somehow, conveyed to your mind a feeling of unquestioned power and greatness, quite poetical in its serious simplicity.' While on a visit to Malvern she climbed walls and trees, and rode on a donkey. One day she had climbed an apple tree, and could not get down till relieved by the gardener, who got a guinea for his pains, which was preserved and neatly framed. On another occasion, at Wentworth House, the gardener cautioned her: 'Be careful, miss, it's slape' (using a provincial form for 'slippery'), while she was descending a sloping piece of turf, where the ground was wet. While she was asking, 'What is _slape?_'her feet slid from beneath her, and the old gardener was able to explain as he lifted her up, 'That's slape, miss.' Miss Jane Porter, then resident at Claremont, describes the princess as a beautiful child, with a cherubic form of features, clustered round by glossy, fair ringlets. Her complexion was remarkably transparent, with a soft, but often heightening tinge of the sweet blush-rose upon her cheeks, that imparted a peculiar brilliancy to her clear blue eyes. Whenever she met any strangers in her usual paths, she always seemed, by the quickness of her glance, to inquire who and what they were? The intelligence of her countenance was extraordinary at her very early age, but might easily be accounted for on perceiving the extraordinary intelligence of her mind. At Esher Church, even in her sixth year, the youthful princess was accustomed to devote earnest attention to the sermons preached there, as the Duchess of Kent was in the habit of inquiring not only for the text, but the heads of the discourse. 'The sweet spring of the princess's life,' continues Miss Porter, 'was thus dedicated to the sowing of all precious seeds of knowledge, and the cultivation of all elegant acquirements.... Young as she was, she sang with sweetness and taste; and my brother, Sir Robert (who, when in England, frequently had the honour of dining at Claremont), often had the pleasure of listening to the infant chorister, mingling her cherub-like melody with the mature and delightful harmonies of the Duchess of Kent and Prince Leopold.'