'As to the dinner, it was so perfect that it was impossible to know a single thing on the table, and that, you know, must be termed a proper dinner for such a party. My brother gave a _carte blanche_ to Sir Edward Kerrison's Englishman cook, and, to give him his due, he gave us as elegant a dinner as ever I saw. Our waiting was particularly well done--so quiet, no in and out of the room. Everything was brought to the door, and there were sideboards all round the room, with everything laid out to prevent clatter of knives, forks, and plates. Etiquette allows the lady's own footman in livery, and we had ten out of livery, the King and Queen's pages, seven gentlemen borrowed of our friends, and our own butler. They all continued waiting till the ladies left the room. 'We were well lit, wax on the table and lamps on the sideboards, and many a face I saw taking a peep in at the windows. The room was cool, for the Queen asked to have the top sashes down. 'The King was not in his usual spirits. He said had it been the day before he must have sent his excuses. The Queen was all animation, and the rest of the party most chatty and agreeable. The King bowed to the Queen when the ladies were to move. 'Our evening was short, as they went at half-past ten. The Princess played on the piano, and my brother and Mrs. Bullock sang one of Ariole's duets at the Queen's request. When they went the sweep was full of people to see them go, and their Majesties were cheered out of the grounds. 'We had with us our little nephew Salkeld,[*] whom my brother puts to Dr. Morris's school. He came in to dessert, a day the child can never forget. The King asked him many questions, which he answered distinctly, with a profound bow, and then backed away. He looked so pretty, for the awe of Royalty brought all the colour to his cheeks. I felt rather proud of him, he did it so gracefully. The Queen told him she hoped he would make as good a man as his excellent uncle. After dinner the Princess Augusta called him to her in the drawing-room, saying, "I like that little fellow's countenance; he is quite a Clitherow." She talked to him of cricket, football, and hockey, telling him when she was a little girl she played at all these games with her brother, and played cricket particularly well. [*] He became a hero in the Indian Mutiny, losing his life in volunteering to blow up the Cashmere Gate at Delhi in 1857. 'That we are proud of this day we cordially own, for my brother is the first commoner their Majesties have so honoured; but we feel we ought not to have done it. When Jane, with her honesty, told the Queen we were not in a situation to receive such an honour, her answer was: "Mrs. Clitherow, you are making me speeches. If it is wrong I take the blame, but I was determined to dine once again at Boston House with you.'