THE LAST HOURS OF PRINCE ALBERT.

Otago Witness, Issue 679, 3 December 1864, Page 7

THE LAST HOURS OF PRINCE ALBERT.

There has reached us (Northern Whig) from abroad a most interesting extract from a letter which was written by a member of the Queen's household, shortly after the death of Prince Albert. The extremely confidential poaitHWL which the writer held at the time not .only gives the assurance of perfect reliability, but invests the following lines with a very special interest. After describing the grief and fears of the whole household for the Queen, the writer speaks of the personal loss sustained in the death of Prince Albert:—

" How I sball mica his conversation about the children ! He used often to come int i the schoolroom to speak about , the education of the children, and he never left me without my fteltegthat he had strengthened my hands,. and raised the standard I was aiming at. Nothing mean or frivolous could exist in the atmosphere that surrounded him ; the conversation could not be trifling if he was in the room. I dread the return of spring for my deir lady. .It was hiar favourite time of the year—the opening leaves, the early flowers, and fresh green were snoh a delight to him ; and he so loved to point out their beauties to his children, that it. will be terrible to see them without him. The ohildren kepi his table supplied with priinsoses, which be especially loved. The last Sunday he passed on earth was a very blessed one for the Princess Alice to look back upon. He was very ill and very weak, and she spent the afternoon alone with him, whilst the others were in church. He begged to have his sofa drawn to the window, that he might see the sky and the clouds sailing past. He then, asked her to play to him, and she went through, several of his favorite hymns and chorales. After she had played some time, she looked round and saw him lying back, his hands folded as if in. prayer, and his eyes shut. He lay ao long without moving that she thought, he had fallen asleep,. Presently, he looked up and smiled. She said. • Were you asleep, dear papa?' 'Oh ao, T be answered ; ' only I have such sweet thoughts.' " During his hisT Jness J hands were often in prayer; and, when he did not speak, his serene face showed that the 'happy thoughts* were with him to the end. The Princess Alice's fortitude has amazed us all. She saw from the first that both her father and mother's firmness depended on her firmness, and she set herself to the duty. , He loved to speak openly of his condition, and had many wishes to express. He loved to hear hymns and prayers. He could not speik to the Queen of himself, for she could not bear to listen and shut her eyes to the danger. H» daughter saw that she must act differently, and sho never let her voice filter, or shed a suurle tear in his presence. She sat by, him -listened to all he said— repeated hymns ; and then, when. she could bear it no longer, would walk calmly to the door, and than rush away to her room, return soon with ■ the same calm and pale face without any appearance of the agitation she had gone through. " I have had several interviews .with the poor Queen . since. The first time she said, • Yon east feel for me, for you have gone through the triaL* Another time Bbc said how strange it seamed, when she looked back", to see how much for the last six months" the Prince's mind had dwelt upon death and the future state; their conversation, .had so often turned upon these subjects, and they had read together a book called ' Heaven antt Home,, which had interested him very much. He ones said to her, « We don't know m what state we shall meet again ; but that we shall recognise each other and be together in eternity I am perfectly certain.' It seemed as if it had been intended to prepare her mind and comfort her— though, of couree, it did not strike her then. She said she was a wonder to herself, and she was sure it was in answer to the prayers of her people that she was' so sustained. She iearcd it would not last, and that' times of agony were before her. She said/* There's not the bitterness in this trial that I felt when I lost my mother ; I was so rebellious then ; but now I see the mercy and love that are mixed in my trial. Her whole thought ie now to walk worthy ot him, and for greatest comfort to, think that his spirit ia always near her, and knows all that she is doing.'