The Ladies-in-Waiting have their cabins on the starboard side in the fore part of the vessel, and the Lords on the port side; they have also a commodious dining-room, decorated in white and gold. Her Majesty's servants have twelve cabins, six of them fitted up for two people. In addition to these there are numerous domestic offices, a dispensary, the officers' cabins, and accommodation for the crew, which numbers 170. Her Majesty the Queen is never now longer on board than forty-eight hours at a time, and the vessel is kept in such perfect order that only twelve hours' notice is required to prepare her for the reception of Royalty. [Illustration: CAPTAIN AND OFFICERS OF THE "VICTORIA AND ALBERT." _From a Photograph._] [Illustration: LIGHT A LONDON IDYLL] BY E. M. HEWITT. We lodged in a street together: You a sparrow on the housetop lonely, I, a lone she bird of his feather. I. Marigold Place is a blind alley turning out of the animal life and ugliness of the Harrow Road. No. 7 is Mrs. Xerxes'. She was unique among landladies, never having seen better days. The oldest inhabitant of the Place had no other recollection of her, girl and matron, than as a limping slattern with a squint, wearing a sackcloth bib-apron and a ragged, rusty crape bonnet. Mrs. Xerxes' sole source of income, in addition to occasional charing, was derived from her lodgers--a colony of obscure workers, with much shabby tragedy underlying their daily absences. Little Miss Barberry, the upholsteress, who lived on the third-floor back, was Mrs. Xerxes' model lodger, or, as she expressed it, "the only 'let' that does credit to the 'ouse." Madge Barberry was a very pretty girl, refined in voice, manner, and appearance, with delicate features, soft, dark eyes, and glossy brown hair loosely coiled on the top of her head. She always wore black, with a white apron, and a chatelaine of keys, scissors, and needle-case hung on a long ribbon at her waist. She lived in one room, poorly furnished, for which Mrs. Xerxes condescended to accept three-and-sixpence weekly. It was little more than a garret, hideous with the miserable appointments and musty atmosphere of the low-life London lodging-house. But, as for outlook, it was much better off than Paul Vespan's, on the other side of the landing. Through its grimy windows there was a glimpse of green Virginia creeper climbing up the dingy walls of the opposite mews; whereas, the third-floor front only commanded the depressing prospect of the narrow street. Madge merely knew Mr. Vespan by sight. They had met on the stairs, passing each other with that curious blending of shyness and suspicion which characterises the relation of London fellow-lodgers. Once or twice Paul had heard her singing; she had a sweet voice. Mr. Vespan ranked next to Miss Barberry in Mrs. Xerxes' estimation.