Caroline did not die at Kensington, though her husband did, after having survived her more than twenty years, and having in the meantime discovered her inestimable worth. At this time the Gardens were open to the public on Saturdays by Queen Caroline's orders, and were a favourite parade, though, as everyone was requested to appear in "full dress," the numbers must have been limited. The principal promenade was the Broad Walk, which Caroline herself had caused to be made. We can picture these ghosts of the past, with their gay silks and satins, the silver-buckled shoes with coloured heels, the men in their long waistcoats, heavily skirted coats, and three-cornered hats--very fine beaux, indeed; and the women stiffly encased in the most uncomfortable garments that ever the wit of mortal devised, holding their heads erect, lest the marvellous pyramids, built up with such expenditure of time and money, should topple over, and, in spite of all disadvantages, looking pretty and piquant. It was a crowd not so far removed from us by time, so that we can attribute to the men and women who composed it the same feelings and sensibilities as our own. And yet they were very far removed from us in their surroundings, for many of the things that are to us commonplace would have been to them miraculous, so that they seem more different from us of a hundred years later than from those who preceded them by many hundreds of years. It is this mingling of a life we can understand, with circumstances so different, that gives the eighteenth century its predominant and never-dying charm. In 1798 we hear of a man being accidentally shot while the keepers were hunting (presumably shooting) foxes in Kensington Gardens.