I well remember once going with a party—amongst others Lady Molesworth, Lord Torrington and Mr. Bernal Osborne—to Evans’ Supper Rooms. It was not a place, I fancy, to which ladies went as a rule, but both Lady Molesworth and I had wished to see it, and so it was arranged that we should go. The evening was not as successful as it might have been, as some of the party were in a bad temper; but we tasted the potatoes, for which the place was famous, and, during the course of the visit, I was introduced to the celebrated Paddy Green. He was brought up into the sort of box in which we sat by Mr. Bernal Osborne, who presented him to me with a long sort of speech in which he informed the old man that he was meeting a connection of the well-known Horace Walpole. Paddy Green, contrary to my expectation, was immensely interested at this, and, telling me he would go and get something which I ought to see, disappeared for a moment, only to return bearing with him the “Opera Pass” which had belonged to my literary kinsman, and which the old man was quite delighted to show me. He kept declaring, I recollect, that some day I should have it, and I always had a sort of idea that he would leave it to me. He did not do so, however, and at his death it was sold by auction, when it was purchased by Mr. Hambro of Milton Abbey. Forty or fifty years ago theatres were few in number, and a visit to the play was considered a serious adventure and not a mere casual distraction as it is to-day, when places of entertainment are almost too plentiful in number. As girls, we used, I remember, to be sent to bed for two or three hours in the afternoon in order to rest before the excitement of witnessing a dramatic performance. The opera then, as now, was the most fashionable resort during the season; not, I think, that the opera itself excited any very keen interest—the ballet was the main thing; but as these were the days of Cerito and Taglioni there is little cause for wonder at such having been the case. Taglioni, of course, was not generally received, but, nevertheless, I once met her at a party, though I cannot remember where, or how she got there. Cerito, however, I perfectly well recollect seeing at a Mr. Long’s, at whose house in Grafton Street one used to meet all sorts of clever and interesting people, for he had the especial gift of collecting together notabilities of every sort. I was introduced to this famous dancer, who looked very pretty and demure and made an excellent impression upon every one.