These little reminiscences of the Queen’s early life are not, when rightly regarded, altogether trivial. They give us a delightful picture of a nature doubly royal--royal not merely by birth, but by what birth can never give--the easy affability of manner, the unaffected determination to please and be pleased, the true politeness and tender graces of demeanour which spring from the natural sunshine of the heart, and before which the pedantries of etiquette seem ghastly unrealities. Nothing can illustrate her Majesty’s simple geniality of heart better than a story about her visit to Cambridge, which it may be remarked Whewell does _not_ tell. He was no courtier, as all the world knew, and he treated the Queen in the old-fashioned hospitable manner which the middle-class gentry in England assume towards their guests. The morning after her arrival he accordingly came down bustling into the room quite unceremoniously, and, to the horror of the Lords and Ladies in waiting, ignoring all Court etiquette, he walked up quite coolly and saluted her with brusque frankness as follows:--“Good-morning, your Majesty! How d’ye do? Hope your Majesty slept well. Fine morning, isn’t it?” to which the Queen, to the astonishment of her suite, returned an equally cordial answer, wreathed in the sweetest of smiles. The visit to Scotland was arranged in August, after the General Election brought peace for a time into the political world. On the 11th of August the Royal party left Osborne in the Royal yacht; “our party,” says Prince Albert, “being composed of Victoria and myself, the two eldest children, with Miss Hildyard, Charles (Prince of Leiningen), the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, Lady Jocelyn, General Wemyss, and Sir James Clark.” On the 12th they succeeded, in spite of the mist, in getting well out towards the Atlantic, but though the Prince, thanks to the advice of Admiral Sir Charles Napier, whose panacea for sea-sickness was a glass of port wine, stood the voyage well, some of the party were so sea-sick that they had to abandon the yacht at Falmouth. On the 13th they paid a hazardous visit to “the dogs of Scilly”--as one of the party observed to the Prince, “That is a very good thing over; I should think you will never care to see them again;” and on the 14th, under brighter skies and over smoother seas, they neared the Welsh coast, making land at Milford Haven, and anchoring under the shadow of its red cliffs. The Prince paid a flying visit to Pembroke Dockyard and Castle, but the Queen sat on deck sketching, as was often her favourite custom in these cruises to Scotland. On the 15th they were opposite the Isle of Anglesea, gazing with silent rapture on the hoary head of Snowdon rising from the midst of a sea of surrounding verdure. The _Victoria and Albert_ was then sent to Holyhead, the Royal party proceeding in the _Fairy_ through the Menai Straits, and passing the old Keep of Carnarvon, and Plas Newydd, and many other places recalling to the mind