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Tetters.

LETTERS are according to all the variety of occasions, advertisements, advices, directions, propositions, petitions, commendatory, expostulatory, satisfactory, of compliment, of pleasure, of discourse, and all other passages of action. And such as are written from wise men are of all the words of man, in my judgment, the best; for they are more natural than orations, and public speeches, and more advised than conferences or present speeches. So again letters of affairs from such as manage them, or are privy to them, are of all others the best instructions for history, and to a diligent reader the best histories in themselves.

Lord Bacon.

LXIX.

FROM PRINCE ALBERT TO THE

QUEEN.1

BONN, 26th June 1837.

MY DEAREST COUSIN,

I must write you a few lines to present you my sincerest felicitations on that great change which has taken place in your life.

Now you are Queen of the mightiest land of Europe, in your hand lies the happiness of millions. May Heaven assist you and strengthen you with its strength in that high but difficult task.

I hope that your reign may be long, happy, and glorious, and that your efforts may be rewarded by the thankfulness and love of your subjects.

May I pray you to think sometimes of your cousins in Bonn, and to continue to them that kindness you favoured them with till now. Be assured that our minds are always with you.

I will not be indiscreet, and abuse your time. Believe me always, your Majesty's most obedient and faithful servant,

ALBERT.

LXX.

PRINCE ALBERT TO THE DOWAGER DUCHESS OF GOTHA.

BUCKINGHAM PALACE, June 11, 1840.

DEAR GRANDMAMMA,

I hasten to give you an account of an event which might otherwise be misrepresented to you, which endangered my life and that of Victoria, but from which we escaped under the protection of the watchful hand of Providence. We drove out yesterday afternoon about six o'clock, to pay Aunt Kent a visit, and to take a turn round Hyde Park. We drove in a small phaeton. I sat on the right, Victoria on the left. We had hardly proceeded a hundred yards from the palace, when I noticed, on the footpath on my side, a little mean-looking man holding something towards us; and before I could distinguish what it was, a shot was fired, which almost stunned us both, it was so loud, and fired barely six paces from us. Victoria had just turned to the left to look at a horse, and could not therefore understand why her ears were ringing, as from its being so very near she could hardly distinguish that it proceeded from a shot having been fired. The hores started and the carriage stopped. I seized Victoria's hands, and asked if the fright had not shakened her, but she laughed at the thing.

I then looked again at the man, who was still standing in the same place, his arms crossed, and a pistol in each hand. His attitude was so affected and theatrical it quite amused me. Suddenly he again pointed his pistol and fired a second time. This time Victoria also saw the shot, and stooped quickly, drawn down by me. The ball must have passed just above her head, to judge from the place where it was found sticking in an opposite wall. The many people who stood round us and the man, and were at first petrified with fright on seeing what happened, now rushed upon him. I called to the postillion to go on, and we arrived safely at Aunt Kent's. From thence we took a short drive through the Park, partly to give Victoria a little air, partly also to show the public that we had not, on account of what had happened, lost all confidence in them.

To-day I am very tired and knocked up by the quantity of visitors, the questions, and descriptions I have had to give. You must therefore excuse my ending now, only thanking you for your letter which I have just received, but have not yet been able to read.

My chief anxiety was lest the fright should have been injurious to Victoria in her present state, but she is quite well, as I am myself. I thank Almighty God for his protection. Your faithful grandson,

ALBERT.

The name of the culprit is Edward Oxford. He is seventeen years old, a waiter in a low inn—not mad-but quiet and composed.

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