than I do Mrs. Montagu-perhaps it is high treason to say so-but her Letters-Mrs. M's I mean-do not interest my Heart, and do you know that my Heart is composed of much better stuff than my Head, and consequently I always ask its leave what I ought to value.

"I never knew before that I could live in Complete Retirement and like it. I am much fonder of myself in Consequence than I ever was, and, like most people that live alone, I believe I shall grow disagreeable to others-this Egotism is a specimen of it. As to my Bairns I interest myself in every possible way about them, but when People talk of Children being Companions they either talk nonsense, or they talk of what they know nothing about, except in Theory. Children speak and act very differently in reality from what they do in Books of Education; and, as what we seek for in a companion is sympathy and a capability of comprehending, neither of these things can be found in children, neither can we find in them Companions, but nobody makes use of Appropriate Words, and one thing that would make the World go on much smoother would be the perfect understanding of our thoughts.

"I am sure you are weary of deciphering mine, and I know not by what right I intrude thus long upon your time, except that of being a Chatter Box. But believe me always, yours with much admiration and regard,

"CHARLOTTE MARIA CAMPBELL."

As regards the publication of the Diary, more than one story has been told. Lady Charlotte's apologists assert that it was not her intention to give it to the public,

and that she was entirely innocent in the matter. Others have said that her second husband took the manuscript from her desk and disposed of it to a publisher. It is believed that John Galt, author of The Annals of the Parish and The Ayrshire Legatees, who did a good deal of literary hack-work, was responsible for seeing the first two volumes of the Diary through the press. That he edited the third and fourth volumes, which appeared in 1859, there is no question, for he wrote the preface and an appendix of personal reminiscences.

The book has an historical and biographical value that cannot be gainsaid. It gives an intimate picture of the private, as well as the public, life of the Princess of Wales that is to be found nowhere else; but its immediate success arose from its indiscretions.

Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, the antiquarian, whom Lady Charlotte had known well in her earlier days at Edinburgh, was highly indignant to find letters of his printed in the Diary. "I cannot express my vexation about the book you mention," he wrote. "In all my reading and experience I never knew anything of the kind. When I wrote the silly, impertinent letters in question, between twenty and thirty years ago, I knew that I was writing to the Duke of Argyll's daughter, and thought myself safe by all the common rules of good breeding and morality. But I find I was extremely deceived. I could say more on this head, but my gratitude gets the better of my spleen, for I am eternally bound to remember that Lady Charlotte Bury is Lady Wemyss' sister-in-law and Mr. Campbell's mother."

In this and other matters, since the Diary was published without her connivance, Lady Charlotte may well have been more sinned against than sinning. There

is no doubt that she was fond of the Princess of Wales, who for her part liked her very much, and was most confidential with her, and, when she was not in attendance, constantly corresponded with her, and consulted her about her many troubles.

"Dear Lady Charlotte," Her Royal Highness wrote to her in February 1813, "I fear you have thought me very unkind not to have written to you before this; but I have been so annoyed about my daughter, Princess Charlotte, I have not the power to tink of anything else. She was very unwell for some days, and, though I begged hard, the Regent and the old stony-hearted Queen would not let me see her. To tell you God's truth, I know not how long I shall be able to go on bearing all my sorrows. Come to me at Kensington on Tuesday next at three o'clock, and I will then tell you more; till then adieu. I will reserve all the rest of my budget for vive voix. My poor daughter wrote to me to tell me how she did herself every day, knowing the barbarity of those about her who would not let me go to her."

When, after the death of George III, Caroline returned to England, Lady Charlotte Bury stood stalwartly by Her Majesty, who, after the trial was over, wrote to her: "I assure you, my dear Lady Charlotte, no one's congratulations have been more welcome to me than yours. I do indeed feel thankful at having put my enemies to confusion, and received the justice my conduct and character deserved. Mais hélas, it comes too late, dear Lady Charlotte. Her who would have rejoiced with me at her mother's triumph is losset to me; but she is in a much better world than the present, and we shall soon meet, I trust, for, to tell you the truth, I cannot expect much comfort nowhere so long as I live. No one, in fact, to care for me; and this business has been

more cared as a political affair, than as the cause of a poor forlorn woman. Mais n'importe! I ought to be grateful; and I reflect on these proceedings with astonishment-car ils sont vraiment merveilleux. That I should have been saved out of the Philistines' hands is truly a miracle, considering the power of my enemies and their chiefs, for nothing was left undone that could be done to destroy my character for evermore. I could tell you someting-oh! mein Gott! some day I willbut I cannot write them. I feel very unwell, fatigued and ébayé, I wonder my head is not quite bewildered with all I have suffered-and it is not all over yet with me. That cruel personage will never let me have peace so long as I stay in this country; his rancune is boundless against me. I was sure you would rejoice at my glory, dear Lady Charlotte; no one has been more true to me than yourself at all times, and you have not wasted your interest on an ingrate, I assure you."

Another of the Ladies-in-Waiting of the Princess of Wales was Lady Anne Hamilton, eldest daughter of Archibald, ninth Duke of Hamilton, and a very loyal friend she proved herself. She remained by Caroline's side, undeterred by the persecution that assailed her royal mistress. She did not, indeed, accompany the Princess when she went abroad in 1813; but when her Royal Highness returned in 1820 as Queen, Lady Anne met her at Montbard, and returned with her, driving through London in the royal carriage. During the most anxious days of the trial Lady Anne, in her house in Portman Square, was her host; and, after the Pains and Penalties Bill had been withdrawn, Lady Anne it was who walked at Her Majesty's right hand in the procession to St. Paul's Cathedral to return thanks for her acquittal.

When the Queen died, Lady Anne went with the body to Brunswick, and was present at the obsequies.

The Princess respected Lady Anne, but did not altogether enjoy her society. "I have been busy all this week trying to make a match for Lady A. Hamilton," she wrote to Lady Charlotte Campbell. "I have set my heart on getting her married, somehow or other, to some man; she would be so much more agreeable if she was married; at present she is so full of old maid's whims and prudery, it is quite tiresome to be under her surveillance." The attempt was unsuccessful. "My dragonne de virtue has been sick for days," Caroline wrote later, so I am in the utmost danger of being run away with by some of the enchanters who come to relieve locked up Princesses. No hopes of getting the dragonne married; no one will venture to espouse Joan of Arc. Dey are all afraid of de Amazon, and I am not much surprised." Caroline was not really ungrateful, but she did give voice to the irritation Lady Anne aroused in her.

"Lady Anne is en petite santé . . . just now; she is truly interesting, yet, as your song says, 'Nobody's coming to marry her,' nor, I fear, never will; so I and Joan shall live and die together, like two turtle doves, or rather like dem two foolish women, Lady Eleanor Butler and Mlle. Ponsonby, who must be mad, I should tink, to choose to leave the world and set up in a hermitage in Wales-mais chacun à son goût-it would not be mine," she wrote to Lady Charlotte Campbell in 1814. "My dear Lady Charlotte, I do dread being married to a lady friend. Men are tyrants, mais the womenheaven help us; they are vrais Neros over those they rule. No, no-give me my sweet Prince, rather than a female governess." Six years later she wrote of her Lady-inWaiting in a more pleasant manner: "Poor Joan of Arc