that of the cherished youngest son, delicate in health, but on whom many hopeful thoughts and anticipations of his fond father had rested, the good Prince Leopold. More widely felt was the loss of the chivalrous Emperor Frederick, the noblest figure in the group that surrounded the Queen at the Jubilee gathering. During the sixty years of her reign, times of darkness and mourning have come in swift succession, amidst all the brightness and glory. The loss of the Duke of Clarence, the heir to the throne in the second generation, was deeply felt by the Queen. It was the occasion of her writing one of the most touching of her many letters to her people. 'Osborne, January 26, 1892. 'I must once again give expression to my deep sense of the loyalty and affectionate sympathy evinced by my subjects in every part of my Empire, on an occasion more sad and tragical than any but one which has befallen me and mine, as well as the nation. The overwhelming misfortune of my dearly loved grandson having been thus suddenly cut off in the flower of his age, full of promise for the future, amiable and gentle, and endearing himself to all, renders it hard for his sorely stricken parents, his dear young bride, and his fond grandmother to bow in submission to the inscrutable decrees of Providence. The sympathy of millions, which has been so touchingly and visibly expressed, is deeply gratifying at such a time, and I wish, both in my own name and that of my children, to express, from my heart, my warm gratitude to all. These testimonies of sympathy with us, and appreciation of my dear grandson, whom I loved as a son, and whose devotion to me was as great as that of a son, will be a help and consolation to me and mine in our affliction. My bereavements during the last thirty years of my reign have indeed been heavy. Though the labours, anxieties, and responsibilities inseparable from my position have been great, yet it is my earnest prayer that God may continue to give me health and strength to work for the good and happiness of my dear Country and Empire while life lasts. 'VICTORIA, R.I.' One of the deepest trials of this kind was the death of Prince Henry of Battenberg, the husband of that youngest daughter who had been the tender companion of the Queen, the Princess Beatrice. This was followed by the death of the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, her second son, Prince Alfred, and then by that of her grandson, Prince Christian Victor. Who can read without deep sympathy this 'Letter from the Queen to the Nation'? 'Osborne, February 14, 1896. I have, alas! once more to thank my loyal subjects for their warm sympathy in a fresh grievous affliction which has befallen me and my beloved daughter, Princess Beatrice, Princess Henry of Battenberg. "This new sorrow is overwhelming, and to me is a double one, for I lose a dearly loved and helpful Son, whose presence was like a bright sunbeam in my Home, and my dear daughter loses a noble devoted Husband to whom she was united by the closest affection. 'To witness the blighted happiness of the Daughter who has never left me, and has comforted and helped me, is hard to bear. But the feeling of universal sympathy so touchingly shown by all classes of my subjects has deeply moved my Child and myself, and has helped and soothed us greatly. I wish from my heart to thank my People for this, as well as for the appreciation manifested of the dear and gallant Prince who laid down his life in the service of his adopted Country. 'My beloved Child is an example to all, in her courage, resignation, and submission to the will of God. 'VICTORIA, R.I.' Nothing has endeared our beloved Sovereign to her people more than the history of her family life. That the expression of sympathy by the people has brought some alleviation of grief into the royal household it is satisfactory to learn from the Queen's letter. Space does not permit us to touch upon the wonderful growth of religious, missionary, and philanthropic movements during this illustrious reign. Nor can we mention the names of those eminent Ministers of the Crown who have aided her in the good of the State. Queen Victoria was taken ill on January 18, and died on January 22, 1901. In conclusion, let us briefly ask from such a life as this what lesson we can learn. Surely this great one: "Them that honour me I will honour.' There has been no other such reign in our history as this; and is it not due to the fact that the Queen has ever brought the Christian spirit to bear upon the fulfilment of the duties of the most difficult position to which it has pleased God to call her? On the whole it may be said that her long reign has been a long exhibition before her people of true religion-religion which has sustained and helped her in her darkest days and most difficult tasks, while it has been a bright example to her people. JAMES MACAULAY, M.A., M.D. ELIZABETH GILBERT, The Worker among the Blind. 1 'Is thy cruse of comfort wasting? Rise and share it with another, Art thou stricken in life's battle? Many wounded round thee moan. T is is very difficult for those with sight to realise what life must mean to the blind, or the hopelessness with which many of them walk the earth, mingling with, but still apart from their fellowmen. It seems as if it must be almost unbearable, and yet the blind are so generally cheerful as to make it plain that they are not left without some inner compensation, some direct gift to lighten the affliction and prevent its pressing too heavily. He will with the temptation make the (margin) way to escape.' But Miss Gilbert went further than even cheerful submission, for she used her affliction to help others in bearing theirs, almost forgetting her own, save as an incentive to do what she could for the great company of the blind among whose ranks she found herself. Elizabeth Margaretta Maria was born on August 7, 1826. She was the second daughter and third of the eleven children of Dr. Gilbert, Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, and of his wife, the only surviving child of the Rev. Robert Wintle, Vicar of Culham, Abingdon. The facts of this Excellent Women Tract are, by kind permission of the authoress and the publishers, taken from Elizabeth Gilbert und her Work for the Blind, by Miss Frances Martin. Cassells & Co. Elizabeth, or Bessie as she was always called, was not born blind. 'A handsome child with flashing black eyes,' writes her biographer Miss Martin; eyes which, alas, only looked on the world for three years. Then scarlatina entered the house, and the bright healthy child all but perished. It was to her father's care that she owed her life, to his courage in insisting on open windows, change of bedding and clothing, and to the nourishment which he administered at a critical time on his own responsibility. But though love conquered and Bessie's life was spared, she was not only sightless, but her throat was so much affected as to cause a certain difficulty in swallowing through her whole life, and both ears and nose were affected in a minor degree. With the certainty of a suffering life before her, there were those who said it had been better for the child herself to have been taken to the shelter of her Heavenly Father's arms. But He had work for her here, and she lived to do it nobly. Perhaps the hardest time for the parents was when their little girl was recovering, and had not yet realised that she was blind. Oh, nursie, light a candle,' she would say, and entreat to be taken out of the dark room. Often would she whisper softly: "If I am a very good little girl, may I see my dolly to-morrow?' Little wonder is it to read that her father, who had been full of courage, hope, and resource, 'was broken-hearted now, and would rush weeping from the child's bedside.' Some months afterwards a renowned London oculist pronounced the case hopeless, the sight was irretrievably destroyed. But, so far from being crushed by this confirmation of their worst fears, Dr. and Mrs. Gilbert now set their minds steadily on rendering the blighted life as happy as it was possible to make it, and for this purpose they resolved that Bessie should have such a training as would at least lighten the disabilities which blindness involves. There was no invention or educational help for the blind which they did not inquire into and procure for their child, and this at a time when we are assured that kindly and intelligent men and women could gravely implore the Almighty to take away their child because it was blind, and argue that to teach the blind to read or to work was to fly in the face of Providence.' Bessie grew up gay and happy, trained to do exactly like her sisters. There were eight little girls, the sisterhood,' as they came to be called, and the only difference made between them was that the sisters considered it Bessie's right to be first, and also that it was a great distinction to have a blind sister. They helped her in being as independent as they were, and as she was full of fun many a romping game they enjoyed together, in which Bessie would much rather risk being knocked over than being led by the hand.' When she entered. a room the others were not to give her a chair, she must find one; she was taught to dress herself unaided, and to be as particular in eating and drinking as if she had sight, while neither panic nor fuss was shown, if, as occasionally happened, she exceeded the limitations of her powers and met with some accident. Equally wise and earnest was the method adopted to train her mind. Here, too, she was encouraged and expected to keep pace with her sisters. She learned with her sister Fanny, who was a year younger than herself; Bessie's lessons being read aloud to her, while she worked her French and German exercises verbally. Miss Lander, the governess, was specially interested in Bessie, and she devised a plan of teaching her to write in the ordinary way by drawing threads across a piece of paper which was fixed in a frame. There were raised letters for spelling lessons, and leaden type with raised figures for arithmetic. But this was the lesson Bessie found difficult and disliked, as is often the case with the imaginative, and that she was imaginative to a high degree, her love of music and poetry proved, and, strange, as it sounds, her delight in beautiful scenery. It is hard to imagine how it was that the description of this conveyed meaning to one who had utterly forgotten what her eyes had looked on during those three short years of blessed sight, unless indeed the dreams which visited her so frequently might in part account for the intuitive perception which she seemed to possess. She said that she constantly dreamed of beautiful landscapes; and whether these were the memories of that time of sight, forgotten in waking hours, or visions sent to comfort her, however they came, they were a source of delight to her through her life. She wrote occasional verses in which she describes Nature as one who sees her face might do. Night and dawn, sunrise and sunset, seemed to have the same power over her as though actually visible; while flowers, the song of birds, wind voices, the sounds of wood and field were sources of unfailing delight. She was taught music at first by the widow of an organist in Oxford, afterwards, as her talent became more pronounced, by Dr. Elvey. When learning a new piece a sister sat beside her and read the notes aloud, but long ere this Bessie had been in the habit from her youngest days of sitting down to the piano to improvise. She composed a setting to Mary Howitt's Sea Gull before she was twelve years old, which was published at the time of the Irish famine and realised twenty pounds, which she gave to the famine fund. Trained to be physically fearless, life had many delights for the blind child in the romps and games, the free wild joy of motion which belong to childhood, such as running to the top of a grassy |