bought for
them the Manor of Paretz, about two miles from Potsdam. There Louise
busied herself with household affairs, while her husband gardened,
strolled over his fields, or inspected his farm stock. They played
and sang together, or read Shakespeare and Goethe, while to complete
this home-life came two baby boys: Fritz, born in October, 1795, and
Friedrich Wilhelm, in March, 1797. Someone once asked Louise if this
country existence was not rather dull. "Oh! no," she exclaimed; "I
am quite happy as the worthy lady of Paretz."

But in the late autumn of 1797 the king died, and the quiet freedom
of Paretz had to be exchanged for the restraints of court life.
Little as either of the two desired regal pomp, they played their
new parts well. Friedrich Wilhelm, stately in bearing, and
acknowledged as the handsomest man in his realm, looked every inch a
king; and if his laconic speech and caustic criticisms sometimes
gave offence, the winning gentleness of his beautiful wife more than
made amends. Nobles and citizens, statesmen, soldiers, and savants
were alike made welcome; and Louise knew instinctively how to make
each show at his best. With eager interest she discussed
Pestalozzi's ideas with his disciples; and when Gotloeeb Hiller, the
poet-son of a miner, was presented to her, she led him aside, and by
the friendly ease with which she talked of things familiar to him,
speedily banished his shyness. Indeed, ready as she was to recognize
high gifts and to learn from all able to teach, yet it was to the
obscure and suffering that her tones were most soft and gracious.
Even in trifles her thoughtfulness was unfailing. When a count and a
shoemaker were announced at the same moment, she gave audience first
to the shoemaker. "For time is more valuable to him."

[Illustration: Queen Louise visiting the Poor.]

At Dantzic she constantly wore an amber necklace, because it had
been the gift of the townsfolk. The voice which in childhood had
pleaded for the panting footman running beside her grandmother's
coach, might still be heard interceding, for when the royal carriage
was overturned near Warsaw, and the Oberk of Messterin rated the
servants, Louise interposed: "We are not hurt, and our people have
assuredly been more alarmed than we."

Sometimes the midday meal was spread beneath a forest tree, and from
far and near the peasants flocked to get "even a glimpse of her
lovely face." They followed in crowds while she and the