Adeline Horsey Recollections. I made the acquaintance of the Count Montemolin (age 29) in 1848, when he was staying with the Due (age 33) and [his wife] Duchesse de Nemours (age 25) at Orléans House, Twickenham. He was a very distinguished-looking man, but his good looks were marred by the hereditary defect of the Bourbon Eye, peculiar to the family.

The Count (age 29) was a beautiful dancer, and we danced together a great deal at the numerous balls where we met, and after Montemolin had made my father's acquaintance he used often to visit us at Upper Grosvenor Street.

We had many tastes in common; the Count (age 29) was passionately fond of music, so we sang together in French and Spanish, and thus gradually friendship became love, at least on his part. I, myself, was dazzled by the romance of the affair, and by the rank of my would-be suitor, for I do not think any girl in my position could have been quite unmoved if a Prince of the Blood selected her for his wife instead of one of the Royalties he could have chosen.

The Count (age 31) proposed to me in February '49, but I quite appreciated the difficulties that beset such a marriage, and, after the Count's declaration, I hesitated to definitely consent to become his wife. He apparently was greatly distressed, and sent me the following letter:

Mademoiselle, - I am taking the liberty of writing to you to open my heart, but under the greatest secrecy, as without that I shall be completely lost. I was the most unhappy man in the world after what you said to me at the last ball. How could you believe me capable of deceiving you ! I should never have any peace of mind were I to do so. I did not dare to speak to you again, and nevertheless I sought by every means to meet you, because I could not live without at least seeing you, and also because I hoped for the chance of speaking to you and proving to you that I am a man of honour, and not such a one as people would have you believe. But your kind and gracious manner on Thursday last has dispelled all my fears.

Now, I am going to tell you what you must have felt for a long time; it is that I love you. You alone can make my happiness; any other marriage is impossible for me.

I hope you will grant me the happiness of marrying you one day, because I dare think you too love me. But above all things I desire your happiness, and if I thought you would ever become unhappy with me, I would rather suffer alone, although the greatest and most terrible sacrifice I could make would be to renounce your love. I should, however, wish before you decide definitely that you would grant me a secret interview in the presence of your father, in order that I can say certain things to you. I trust that you will grant me this interview, as it will decide my future happiness.

I beg you again to maintain the greatest reserve in the matter. It must be a secret from everybody, even from my own family, Nobody except your father must know anything about it; for if they did, believe me, I should be completely lost.

I will call at your house at three o'clock in the afternoon, and if you cannot be alone then with your father, you can send me word by him to the following address when it will be convenient to you.

M. LE COMTE DE MONTEMOLIN,.

Travellers Club [Map], Pall Mall.

I shall be there until two o'clock exactly. I am, with the deepest respect and attachment,.

Your devoted,.

Le Comte de Montemolin.

My father and I therefore saw the Count, who successfully overcame our doubts about the wisdom of his marriage to an Englishwoman in view of the political situation in Spain. Montemolin was so much in love that he easily waived every obstacle my father placed in the way, and at last it was settled that we were to be formally engaged, subject to certain conditions which my father insisted on the Count complying with.

The Times. 24 Dec 1861. Yesterday, with little of the pomp and pageantry of a State ceremonial, but with every outward mark of respect, and with all the solemnity which befitted his high station and his public virties, the mortal remains of the husband (deceased) of our Queen (age 42) were interred in the last resting-place of England's Sovereigns-the Chapel Royal of St. George's, Windsor [Map]. By the express desire of his Royal Highness the funeral was of the plainest and most private character; but in the Chapel, to do honour to his obsequies, were assembled all the chiefest men of the State, and throughout England, by every sign of sorrow and imourning, the nation manifested its sense of the loss wlhich it has sustaiined. Windsor itself wore an aspect of the most profound gloom. Every shop was closed and every blind drawn down. The streets were silent and almost deserted, and all wvho appeared abroad were dressed in the deepest mourning. The great bell of Windsor Castle [Map] clanged out: its doleful sound at intervals from an early hour, and minute bells were tolled also at St. John's Church. At the parish church of Cleover and at St. John's there were services in the morning and: aternoon, and the day was observed throughout the Royal borough in the strictest manner. The weather was in character with the occasion, a chill, damp air, with a dull leaden sky above, increased the gloom which hung over all. There were but few visitors in the town, for the procession did not pass beyond the immediate precincts of the Chapel and Castle, and none were admitted except those connected with the Castle andi their friends. At 11 o'clock a strong force of the A division took possession of the avenues leading to the Chapel Royal, and from that time only the guests specially invited and those who were to take part in the ceremonial were allowed to pass. Shortly afterwards a of honour of the Grenadier Guards, of which regiment his Royal Highness was Colonel, with the colonrs of the regiment shrouded in crape, marched in and took up its position before the principal entrance to the Chapel Royal. Another guard of honour from the same regiment was also on duty in the Quadrangle at the entrance to the State apartments. They were speedily followed by a squadron of the 2nd Life Guards dismounted, and by two companies of the Fusileer Guards, who were drawn uip in single file along each side of the road by which the procession was to pass, from the Norman gateway to the Chapel door. The officers wore the deepest military mourning-scarves, sword-knots, and rosettes of crape. In the Rome Park was stationed a troop of Horse Artillery, which commenced firing minute guns at the end of the Long Walk, advancing slowly until it reached the Castle gates just at the close of the ceremony. The Ministers, the officers of the Queen's Household, and other distinguished personages who had been honoured with an invitation to attend the ceremonial, reached Windsor a special train from Paddington. They were met by carriages provided for them at the station, and began to arrive at the Chapel Royal soon after 11 o'clock. The Earl of Derby (age 62), the Archbishop of Canterbury (age 81), Earl Russell (age 69), and the Duke of Buccleuch were among the first to make their appearance, and as they alighted at the door of the Chapel they were received by the proper officials and conducted to the seats appointed for them in the Choir. In the Great Quadrangle were drawn up the hearse and the mourning coaches, and, all the preparations having been completed within the Castle, the procession began to be formed shortly before 12 o'clock. It had been originally intended that it should leave the Castle by the St. George's gate, and, proceeding down Castle-hill, approach the Chapel through Henry VII.'s gateway, but at a late hour this arrangement was changed, and the shorter route by the Norman gatewvay was chosen.

The crowd which had gradually collected at the foot of Castle-hill, owing to this change, saw nothing of the procession but the empty carriages as they returned to the Castle after setting down at the Chapel. The few spectators who were fortunate enough to gain admission to the Lower Ward stood in a narrow fringe along the edge of the flags in front of the houses of the Poor Knights, and their presence was the only exception to the strict privacy of the ceremonial. The Prince of Wales (age 20) and the other Royal mourners assembled in the Oak Room, but did not form part of the procession. They were conveyed to the Chapel in private carriages before the coffin was placed in the hearse, passing through St. George's gatewayinto the Lower Ward. In the first carriage were the Prince of Wales (age 20), Prince Arthur (age 11), and the Duke of Saxe Coburg (age 8). The Crown Prince of Prussia (age 30), the Duke of Brabant (age 26), and the Count of Flanders (age 24) followed in the next; and in the others were the Duke de Nemours (age 47), Prince Louis of Hesse (age 24), Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar (age 38), and the Maharajah Dhuleep Singh, with the gentlemen of their respective suites. Scarcely had they alighted at the door of Wolsey's Chapel, from which they were conducted through the Chapter Room to the door of the Chapel Royal to be in readiness to meet the coffin, when the first minute gun fired in tlhe distance, and the rattle of the troops reversing arms announced that the procession had started, and exactly at 12 o'clock the first mourning coach moved from under the Norman gateway. First came nine mourning coaches, each drawn by four horses, conveying the Physicians, Equerries, and other members of the household of the late Prince. In the last were the Lord Steward (age 63) (Earl St. Germans), the Lord Chamberlain (age 56) (Viscount Sidney), and the Master of the Horse (age 57) (the Marquis of Ailesbury). The carriages and trappings were of the plainest description; the horses had black velvet housings and feathers, but on the carriages there, were no feathers or ornaments of any kind. The mourning coaches were followed by one of the Queen's carriages, drawn by six horses, and attended by servants in State liveries, in which was the Groom of the Stole (age 26), Earl Spencer, carrying the crown, and a Lord of the Bedchamber, Lord George Lennox, carrying the baton, sword, and hat of his late Royal Highness. Next escorted by a troop of the 2nd Life Guards, came the hearse, drawn by six black horses, which, like the carriages, was quite plain and unornamented. On the housings of the horses and on the sides of the hearse were emblazoned the scutcheons of Her Majesty and of the Prince, each surmounted by a, crown, the Prince's arms being in black and Her Majesty's in white. The procession was closed by four State carriages.