we are enabled to present to our readers fac similes of the two mottos above-mentioned, as originally written by her Royal Highness, together with a fac simile of her signature to a document; the whole of which are engraved on the same plate with the piece of music composed by her Royal Highness.

The make of the hand and arm of the Princess Charlotte was considered to be so exactly conformable to the rules of symmetry, that a plaster cast of the hand and lower part of the arm was taken by a celebrated artist, and now stands on a table under a glass cover, in the private sittingroom of Prince Leopold.

Immediately on the decease of the Princess Charlotte, application was made by several artists for permission to take a mask likeness of the Princess. The permission was, however, very properly refused, for no justifiable pretence existed for making such an application, when so many excellent likenesses by the first artists are already before the public. It gave us some pleasure to see a check was given to this professional avarice; and we hope never again to witness in the followers of an elegant art, a conduct that argues, not merely a want of right feeling, but an ignorance of the common rules of decency and propriety.

The grief which was manifested at Windsor and its immediate vicinity for the loss of this amiable Princess, was not confined to the mere perform

ance of religious ceremonies on the day of general humiliation and prayer, but on the subsequent Sunday, divine service was resumed at St. George's Chapel, which remained in the same state as at the royal funeral on the preceding Wednesday, the whole of the choir being covered with black baize, and all the stalls hung with superfine black cloth. The church was crowded with gentry, many of whom were disappointed, as the service was performed in the same manner as at a general fast, without any music, and continued so while the appendages of sorrow remained. All the members present appeared in their funeral trimmings, consisting of the Dean, seven Canons, two minor Canons, and eleven lay Clerks. An impressive discourse upon the solemn occasion, from the 18th verse of the 2d chapter of St. Matthew," In Rama there was a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning; Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not;" was delivered by the Honorable and Reverend Doctor Marsham, Canon in residence. At the commencement of the sermon, the preacher lamented his want of fortitude to enter upon a subject which was so deeply felt by many persons present, with whom the departed was a companion and a guide, and their own familiar friend, and who often took sweet counsel together, and walked into the house of God as friends. He drew a picture of her religious cha

racter, and introduced an historical comparison of her and King Edward VI. The effect of the whole discourse was visible upon the greatest part of the congregation, among whom was the Bishop of Salisbury, the Princess's preceptor, who was deeply affected. In the prayer previous to the sermon, the preacher implored the assistance of Providence towards the Royal Family, to enable them to bear their loss.

The following lines taken from Milton appear applicable to our recent calamitous loss, and might serve as an Epitaph to our dear departed Princess:

Summers three times seven and one
She had told; alas, too soon

After so short a time of breath,

To dwell with darkness and with death:
Yet had the number of her days

Been as complete as was her praise,

Nature and fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.

Her high birth and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet:
At their invoking Hymen came,
But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a cypress bud.
With eager hope the matron rose
To call Lacina to her throes.

But death by sad mischance or blame
Unheeded for Lucina came;

And with remorseless cruelty,

Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree.

The hapless babe before his birth

Had burial yet not laid in earth;
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.
Gentle Princess, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have :
After this thy travail sore,

Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shortened hath thy own life's lease;
Here besides thee sorrowing
That thy royal house doth bring,
These be tears of perfect woe,
Wept by all you leave below *.

* The following Latin Epigram which is to be found in an old Poet of Scotland, bears a strong resemblance to the late melancholy event:

Magdalena Valesiæ, Reginæ Scotorum
16 ætatis anno extincte

Regia eram conjux, et regiæ filia neptis
Regia, spe et votis regia mater eram
Sed ne transgrederer mortalis culmen honoris
Invida mors hic me condidit ante diem.

Say who can boast, in all the royal line,

Such high descent, such royal claim as mine?

A Royal Bride with courtly joys beguil❜d,
A Royal Father on my nuptials smil'd,
A Royal Grandsire of exalted worth,

Great in his virtues, noble in his birth;
Warm expectation, and angelic hope

ardent wishes scope ;

The grief of the illustrious mourner at Claremont had subsided into that kind of settled melancholy, which is generally the consequence of severe mental sufferings. He appeared in many respects to be absent to every thing, except such objects as recalled to his memory his departed Consort. The most inconsiderable articles, once possessed by the lamented Princess, were endeared to him by the fondest recollections. Hence the bonnet and the cloak which she wore in her last pedestrian excursion with him were kept constantly before his eyes. They were hung by her hand upon a screen in the sitting parlour, and there they remained for a considerable time; nor would the Prince allow them to be removed, nor any person whatever to touch them. Her Royal Highness's watch also long continued on the mantle-piece in precisely the same situation in which she herself placed it *.

A Royal Mother, soon to stand confest,
Maternal fondness glowing in my breast.
But ah!-relentless death, that envious foe,
Lest I this pinnacle of joy should know,
Snatch'd me in youth's, in beauty's bloom away,

Crushing the fondest hope of that expected day.

Of anagrams it cannot be necessary to speak seriously; but it may be as well to observe by the way, that the learned Camden, who has left us a treatise on the subject, defines an anagram to be the dissolution of a name, by a transposition of the letters composing it, so as to form some perfect sense applicable to the person named ; and he gives several examples, some of which are certainly very extraordinary. That which has been