There was hardly any looking at the picture of the Empress for the glare of the diamonds. One of them, I really believe, was as big as a nutmeg; though I am somewhat ashamed to undignify my subject by so culinary a comparison. When we were all satisfied, the miniature was restored by General Bawr to the Prince, who took it with stately complacency; condescendingly making a smiling bow to each fair female who had had possession of it, and receiving from her in return a lowly courtesy. Mr. Harris, who was the most curious to see the Empress, because his son, Sir James,[24] was, or is intended to be, Minister at her Court, had slyly looked over every shoulder that held her; but would not venture, he archly whispered, to take the picture in his own hands, lest he should be included by the Prince amongst _The Ladies_, as an old woman! Have you had enough of this concert, my dear Mr. Crisp? I have given it in detail, for the humour of letting you see how absorbing of the public voice is La Gabrielli; and also for describing to you Prince Orloff, a man who, when time lets out facts, and drives in mysteries, must necessarily make a considerable figure, good or bad—but certainly not indifferent—in European history. Besides, I want your opinion whether there is not an odd and striking resemblance in general manners, as well as in herculean strength and height, in this Siberian Prince and his Abyssinian Majesty?” On another musical evening, of which Fanny wrote an account, there were present: the French Ambassador, the Count de Guignes, at whose request the concert was given; the Danish Ambassador, Baron Deiden, and his wife; the Groom of the Stole, Lord Ashburnham, ‘with his gold key dangling from his pocket;’ Lord Barrington from the War Office, and Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty. Of this last, the boon-companion and denouncer[25] of Wilkes, Miss Fanny naïvely asks, “I want to know why he is called Jemmy Twitcher in the newspapers? Do pray tell me that.”