Spite of many sinister rumours, the Princess grew up strong and vigorous. Her mother was especially careful to fortify her constitution, and so to prepare it to encounter the hard work and manifold anxiety which are the inevitable lot of a British sovereign. Many there were--some of them with ends of their own to gain--who kept prophesying that "the daughter of the Duke of Kent would never attain her legal majority;" or, that "she would never marry;" again, that "she could never become the mother of a family." Much alarm was caused by these prognostications. For one thing was above all others ardently desired by the nation--that the Duke of Cumberland, who stood next in succession after the Princess, should never become King of England. Even if he had not been an object of something more than suspicion, it was universally desired that England should never again (after King William's death) be united with Hanover under one monarch. But as facts became known by degrees about the Princess, as her healthy face and agile frame became familiar in London, and in many parts of the land, the apprehensions died away, and the "frail, delicate, sickly child," whose fabricated ailments had been made the subject of so much sham sympathy, was looked upon as a fabulous invention. [Sidenote: LEARNING TO READ.] It soon became known that her physical and mental characteristics were of a nature directly the opposite of what had been so industriously reported. She was extremely active, and had a healthy love of sports and games. She had an inquiring mind, not only restless in the pursuit, but clear in the comprehension of knowledge. She soon developed, too, much decision of character. Seemingly incapable of fatigue, she was the first to begin, and the last to leave off, a study, a romp, a game, a new duty, and equally eager to resume an old occupation. This peculiarity, it was gladly observed, was an inheritance from her father; but her mother also set her a congenial example of industry and perseverance. Such stories as the following were gleefully passed throughout the land from lip to lip. While she was learning her alphabet, she, doubtful of the utility of being so tormented, ejaculated--"What good this?--what good this?" She was told that "mamma could know all that was contained in the great book on the table because she knew _her_ letters, whilst the little daughter could not." This was quite enough, and the young acolyte of the alphabet cried out, "I learn, too--I learn, too--very quick." And she did become rapidly mistress of her letters. Her mother sought to teach her to be satisfied with simple pleasures, and here she was a most apt pupil. Once, when she was so young that she could not express what she felt, she dragged her uncle Clarence to the window to observe a beautiful sunset. To her uncle Leopold, too, she was constantly pointing out objects of natural beauty, on which he invariably improved the opportunity by giving her prompt and