Released from the cares of state and toils of "the
season," Queen Victoria, with her husband and part of her family, is off to Scot- land; voyaging round the Western coast, hitherto unvisited by the Royal squadron. One parting Privy Council was held at Osborne House, to prorogue the troublesome Parliament ; but the last days were spent at Osborne in pleasure rather than business— parties to the poor town-tied Ministers, farewell courtesies to the Russian Prince Constantine, birth-day sports for little Prince Alfred, and the like. At length all hinderances were got rid of, the Queen embarked, and the squadron sailed. The foggy wea- ther has rendered its progress slow. England is in a ferment at its Southern and %Western edge with good folks eager to catch a sight of the passing Sovereign. Pauper Ireland will loom in the distance—passed with a sigh. But all Scotland is gathering to
the banks of the Frith of Clyde, impatient for the fleet which bears its Queen.
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