been a careworn woman, acquainted with grief. She has herself told how her sad and suffering heart was cheered by the solemn beauty of her beloved Highlands, and especially that she was taught many a lesson of resignation and faith by her faithful Scottish servants. One of these, John Grant, wheeling her chair, or leading her pony along the mountain paths, taught her that she must not look upon the days especially associated with her husband's memory—his birthday, August 26th, or even the day of his death, December 14th—as days of mourning. "That's not the light to look at," he said, and helped her to feel that they were beloved and blessed days, because they were so full of the memories of the blessed past. In recording this the Queen writes, "There is so much true and strong faith in these good, simple people." The lesson was not forgotten, and we find, by various notes in the diary, that the Queen keeps her husband's birthday by trying to make it a happy day for those about her, celebrating it by giving presents to her children, ladies and gentleman in attendance, and servants, so that all should feel they had been borne in mind, and received some "remembrance of the dear day." In the same spirit of gratitude for past happiness, Her Majesty's note in her dairy of October 15th, 1867, is, "Our blessed engagement day! A dear and sacred day—already twenty-eight years ago. How I ever bless it!" In contrast with this, we find the entry for her own birthday, May 24th, 1863, just three words, "My poor birthday!"
Chief among her Highland friends, the Queen had the good fortune to reckon Dr. Norman Macleod. His strong faith and his power of sympathy, combined with a wonderful gift of expression and indefatigable kindness, gave him a peculiar power in saying the right thing, and giving just the help and support that
