"_Saturday, June 2nd._ We have been too busy to write. We dined on Wednesday with Kenyon--present Dickens's wife, Fellows, Milnes and some others--Milnes a pert little prig, but pleasant. _À propos_, when he came to call upon us, our girl announced him as 'Mr. Miller'--our conversation ran upon literature, and I had the exquisite discrimination to tell him that except Wordsworth, there were no great poets in England now. Fortunately he soon took his departure, and thus prevented me from expressing the light estimation in which I hold his poetry. On Thursday Morpeth gave us a beautiful dinner--thirteen servants in the hall, powdered heads, Lady Carlisle very like Morpeth--Lady Mary Howard not pretty; Duchess of Sutherland, beautiful, but like Lizzie Hogg. They gave us strawberries, the first we have tasted, green peas, pines, peaches, apricots, grapes--all very expensive. We stayed until nearly twelve--they were very gracious--Annie and I are little people here--we are too young(?) to be noticed--we are very demure, and have learned humility. Chev receives a great deal of attention, ladies press forward to look at him, roll up their eyes, and exclaim, 'Oh! he is such a wonner!' I do not like that the pretty women should pay him so many compliments--it will turn his little head! He is now almost well, and so handsome! the wrinkles are almost gone--Yesterday, Sir Robert Inglis gin us a treat in the shape of a breakfast--it was very pleasant, albeit Sir R. is very pious, and a Tory to boot. We had afterward a charming visit from Carlyle--in the evening we went to Landsdowne House, to a concert given by the Marquis--heard Grisi, Lablache, Mario, Standigl, were much pleased--I was astonished, though, to find that our little trio at home was not bad, even in comparison with these stars. They have, of course, infinitely better voices, but hang me if they sing with half the enthusiasm and fire of our old Sam and Cousi, or even of poor Dudy. Grisi's voice is beautifully clear and flute-like--Mario sings _si-be-mol_ and natural with perfect ease. I was most interested in the German Standigl, who sang the '_Wanderer_' with wonderful pathos. Lablache thundered away--I must see them on the stage before I shall be able to judge of them. After music we had supper. Willie Wad[21] was indefatigable in our service. 'Go, and bring us a great deal more lemonade!' these were our oft-repeated orders, and the good Geneseo trotted to the table for us, till, as he expressed it, 'he was ashamed to go any more.' Lansdowne is a devilish good fellow! ho! ho! He wears a blue belt across his diaphragm, and a silver star on his left breast--he jigs up and down the room, and makes himself at home in his own house. He is about sixty, with Marchioness to match; side dishes, I presume, but did not inquire. I have just been breakfasting at the Duke of Sutherland's superb palace. I will tell you next time about it. Lady Carlisle says I am nice and pretty, oh! how I love her!..."