The Queen has always shown a truly royal appreciation of those who were great in art, science, or literature. It is well known that she sent her book, _Leaves from our Journal in the Highlands_, to Charles Dickens, with the inscription, “From one of the humblest of writers to one of the greatest.” Mrs. Somerville, in her _Reminiscences_, speaks of the gracious reception given to herself by the Queen while she was still Princess Victoria, when the authoress presented a copy of her _Mechanism of the Heavens_ to the Duchess of Kent and her daughter. More than twenty years later Mrs. Somerville wrote, “I am glad to hear that the Queen has been so kind to my friend Faraday. It seems she has given him an apartment at Hampton Court, nicely fitted up. She went to see it herself, and having consulted scientific men as to the instruments necessary for his pursuits, she had a laboratory fitted up with them, and made him a present of the whole. That is doing things handsomely, and no one since Newton has deserved so much.” The Queen was also very ready to show her warm appreciation of Carlyle and other eminent writers. In an interview with Carlyle, at the Deanery, Westminster, she quite charmed the rugged old philosopher by her kind and gracious manner. Many years ago, when the fame of Jenny Lind was at its height, she was invited to sing in private before the Queen at Buckingham Palace. Owing to some contemptible spite or jealousy, her accompanist did not play what was set down in the music, and this of course had a very discomposing effect upon the singer. The Queen’s quick ear immediately detected what was going on, and at the conclusion of the song, when another was about to be commenced, she stepped up to the piano and said, “I will accompany Miss Lind.” The Queen’s strong personal interest in all that concerns the welfare of her kingdom is well known. She became almost ill with anxiety about the sufferings of our troops in the Crimea, and she wrote frequently to Lord Raglan on the subject. Before the end of the siege of Sebastopol, Lord Cardigan returned from the Crimea on a short visit to England, and came to see the Queen at Windsor. One of the royal children said to him, “You must hurry back to Sebastopol and take it, else it will kill mamma!” In the summer of 1886, during the anxious political crisis of that time, a gentleman, who had just seen the Queen, was asked how she looked. “Ten years younger than she did a fortnight ago,” was the reply. The severity of the crisis was for the time averted, and the relief of mind it brought to the Queen could be plainly read in the change in her aspect.