Lady Sherbourne, a charming lady whom I fell in love with at first sight, sang also. She has a beautiful, rich contralto voice, and sang with a great deal of expression an English song called, "Out on the rocks when the tide is low." In your last letter you wrote, "I am afraid that you are on the way to become conceited." I am afraid myself I am, still I cannot resist telling you, this once, that my audience was very enthusiastic and Mr. Costa said --well, I won't tell you what he said; it might sound conceited. The last thing I sang was "Beware!" which was immensely appreciated. The Prince of Wales said: "That is a bewitching song. I never heard it before. Who composed it?" I told him that it was written for me by my husband, and Longfellow had written the words. The Princess, before leaving, said, "I cannot tell you how much pleasure you have given us this evening; we hope to see you often while you are in London." She is very beautiful, even handsomer than when I saw her last. Baroness Rothschild kissed me, and thanked me for having sung for her. Call me vain and conceited if you will, my head is turned, and there is nothing more to be said about it! A luncheon at "Caroline, Duchess of Montrose's," at two o'clock upset me for the whole day. I am not accustomed to those big _déjeuners- dinatoires_. I was sleepy and felt good for nothing the rest of the day; and when we dined at Lady Molesworth's that evening, "to meet their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales," and wanted to be extra up-to-the-mark, I felt just the contrary. However, after dinner the Prince of Wales asked me to sing, and I did not refuse, and even sang most of the evening. There was a charming Baron Hochschild, the Swedish Minister, who sang delightfully. He is a thorough musician, and accompanied himself perfectly with all the aplomb of an artist. He has a deep, rich barytone, and his _répertoire_ consisted of all the well-known old Italian songs. Lady Molesworth is a beautiful old lady, who must have been a great beauty in her youth. She wears curls just like yours, dear mama, which made me love her. I met here Arthur Sullivan; he was full of compliments.