Se Oe pee Poe ee Sean ORR ERR

 

OUR

RGYAL NEIGHBORS AT SANDRINGHAM.

By Mrs.-RayMonp BLATHWAYTE.

 

DARE say all American
boys and girls very well
know Sandringham to be
the name of the house
in which the Prince of
Wales lives when he is
quite at home. I have
the good fortune to live
within a few miles of the

 

; estate, and we often drive there, especially when

we have any visitor staying with us whose heart,
like ours, is cram-full of loyalty, as we had last
November. The Prince and Princess are always
at home at that time, and remain to spend Christ-
mas. They had, as usual, been entertaining the
people of the county with dancing and festivity.
It was the morning after the ball, and there was
to be a grand meet of the hunt at Hillington, and

"we decided to drive to see the royal party leave the

hall.

It was a brilliant frosty morning, and off we rat-
tled through the little village and out into the open
country, gay with autumnal coloring, the sea glit-
tering and sparkling in the far off distance. We
rushed, up hill and down dale, through villages
that woke up to see us pass, and along great com-

"mons grand in their noble solitude, then up a pretty

little wooded steep, and there the Park lay before

~us in all its English beauty. Here are the Nor-

wich gates, handsome iron structures, presented
to the Prince of Wales by the inhabitants of the
ancient cathedral city. There is the long avenue
of noble oaks and beeches; and then the house
itself—a plain and somewhat homely-looking build-
ing.

A soldierly looking policeman is standing at the
gates. Uncle Raymond, who is driving, jumps
down and accosts him : “Has the Prince gone yet ?””

“No, sir, you’re in plenty of time.
better go round to Cook’s Lodge, and drive slowly
up the hill; you’re sure to see him pass.” __

We drive on again, Everything savors of roy-
alty, Prince of Wales’ feathers meet the eye at every

You had.

turn; even the very carts bear his name upon them
as they pass. And now we take position on the hill.
A quarter of an hour goes slowly by, and yet we
see and hear nothing.

“Ts it possible,” cries Uncle Raymond taking out
his watch, “that we have had our drive for nothing ?
Here is a man, I’ll ask him.”

The laborer civilly informs us that the Prince is
snipe-shooting at Wolverton, and, touching his hat,
passes on.

We groan audibly. A gentleman in hunting cos-
tume, but on foot, appears in the distance. As he
approaches Uncle Raymond questions him: ‘ Does
the Prince go hunting to-day?”

“Ves; he does go hunting to-day.”

“Will he pass this way?”

“Fe will pass this way; you cannot possibly
miss him.”

Presently carts and wagonettes go by; and then
a string of the royal hunters step proudly past us.
Then two or three red coats appear, more wagon-
ettes, more strings of hunters, more red-coats, all
looking as “fresh as paint and as cheerful as par-
rots.” And then comes a pause. We are alone
once more. But soon a gentleman rides slowly out
of the gates, immediately followed by a laughing
cavalcade.

It is the Prince!

He on the gray horse, at the head of the caval-
cade, comes slowly up the hill.

Uncle Raymond stands bareheaded at the pony’s
head. ‘The Prince’s eye is upon us and, noting
Uncle Raymond’s bare head, he lifts his hat, bows
graciously and gallops rapidly forward. He looked
very handsome in his red coat, every inch the Prince
of Wales, and England’s future King.

Then there is more waiting until an open car-
riage, drawn by four horses with postilions, turns
the corner. Two gentlemen are on the box, then
two ladies, then a lady and gentleman. The Prin-
cess is on the second seat, and on our side. As
she passes, looking pale, but very sweet and pretty,
she, too, bows in the most charming manner. Then

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