She died at St.
Wendel, in Switzerland, while still young and beautiful; but doubtless
weary enough of life, which had brought her such happiness, only to take
it away. Two words as holy as her prayers, were on her dying lips--
"Ernest!" "Albert!"
But the boys were rich in grandmothers--having two of the very tenderest
and dearest of Dowager-Duchesses to watch over them (watching each other,
perhaps, the while) and to minister to them for many a year. According to
these venerable ladies, Albert, who was certainly a delicate, nervous
child, was one of those "little angels" who are destined not to survive
the dimpled, golden-curled, lisping, and croupy period; being too good
and sweet and exquisite for this wicked and rough world. But, according
to certain entries in the Prince's own diary--his first, begun in his
sixth year--he at that age happily revealed some hopeful signs of saving
naughtiness and healthful "original sin."
"11th _February_, 1825.
"I was told to recite something, but did not wish to do so. That was not
right--naughty!"
"20th _February_.
"I had left all my lesson books lying about in the room, and I had to put
them away; then I cried."
"28th _February_.
"I cried at my lesson to-day because I could not find a verb, and the
Rath (tutor) pinched me, to show me what a verb was.
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