“Well, my lords, one person is proposing this, and another is supposing that, forgetting that there is One above us all Who is disposing of everything, on Whom alone we depend.” After her marriage in 1818, the Princess was thoroughly happy with her husband, the Landgrave Frederick VI. of Homburg. Some would ridicule the state and ceremonial of the little court as being a mimicry of the Royal magnificence of greater nations; but it was picturesque, full of interest, and probably gave far more satisfaction or enjoyment than courtiers found either at London or Paris. At all events, while she remained thoroughly English, and never even quite conquered the German language, the Princess would speak of her own “dear little Homburg” in the language of genuine affection. After the death of the Landgrave, who expired April 2, 1829, through influenza affecting an old wound received in the wars, she refers to the palace as “My own dear home, once the happiest of happy homes.” Certain fashionable people in London made it their business to ridicule the Landgrave; but all impartial readers will see that his character was superior to that of his detractors. The Princess lived for about twenty-two years after her marriage, and during half that period she was a widow. In some respects, to the English reader, this was the more interesting period of a quietly interesting life. Home life afforded genuine pleasure, and while there may have been no pretentious magnificence, gardens, pictures and books afforded tasteful recreation, though the poor were not forgotten. The Princess even lent books to such friends as could be trusted with them. “If you wish to take any home, I shall be happy to lend them, knowing you to be careful,” she writes to Miss Swinburne. “I have been obliged to give it up here, for if you could have seen some that were returned to me you would have been disgusted; I was quite provoked.” Unhappily, the ill-usage of books is not confined to Germany. On many matters strong common-sense opinions are expressed. She does not accept exaggerated local gossip; and though she never had measles, she says, “I have no fears, I trust in God, and don’t let myself think about catching anything, otherwise I should be miserable.” We have glimpses of Brighton as it was sixty or seventy years ago, when the reigning sovereign had a palace there. “It appears as if it was a petty London, and all the fine ladies come down in parties to enjoy a few days of the sea and back again in no time,” writes the Princess in December, 1832. There was a great procession to celebrate the town being made into a parliamentary borough by the Reform Bill of 1832; but “why they would not turn it at once into a marine city or town, I cannot think. It was large enough when I was there and now much increased.” Early in 1835 we find the Princess at the Pavilion on a visit to her brother William IV.