MY DEAR UNCLE: . . . On Thursday Mr. Bancroft dined with Count Jarnac, the Minister in the Duc de Broglie’s absence, and he little dreamed of the blow awaiting him. The fortifications and the army seemed to make the King quite secure. On Friday Mr. Bancroft went to dine with Kenyon, and I drove there with him for a little air. On my return Cates, the butler, saluted me with the wondrous news of the deposition and flight of the royal family, which Mr. Brodhead had rushed up from his club to impart to us. I was engaged to a little party at Mr. Hallam’s, where I found everybody in great excitement. Sunday Noon. To-day we were to have dined with Baron de Rothschild, but this morning I got a note from the beautiful baroness, saying that her sister-in-law and her mother with three children, had just arrived from Paris at her house in the greatest distress, without a change of clothes, and in deep anxiety about the Baron, who had stayed behind. Our colleagues all look bewildered and perplexed beyond measure. . . . The English aristocracy have no love for Louis Philippe, but much less for a republic, so near at hand, and everybody seemed perplexed and uneasy. Tuesday. On Sunday the Duc de Nemours arrived at the French Embassy, and Monday the poor Duchess de Montpensier, the innocent cause of all the trouble. No one knows where the Duchess de Nemours and her young children are, and the King and Queen are entirely missing. At one moment it is reported that he is drowned, and then, again, at Brussels. Wednesday. To-day the French Embassy have received despatches announcing the new government, and Count Jarnac has immediately resigned. This made it impossible for the Duc de Nemours and the Duchess de Montpensier to remain at the Embassy, and they fell by inheritance to Mr. Van de Weyer, whose Queen is Louis Philippe’s daughter. The Queen has taken Louis Philippe’s daughter, Princess Clementine, who married Prince Auguste de Saxe-Coburg to the Palace, but for State Policy’s sake she can do nothing about the others. Mr. Van de Weyer offered Mr. Bates’s place of East Sheen, which was most gratefully accepted. Friday. This morning came Thackeray, who is the soul of _Punch_, and showed me a piece he had written for the next number. Saturday. The King has arrived. What a crossing of the Channel, pea-jacket, woollen comforter, and all! The flight is a perfect comedy, and if _Punch_ had tried to invent anything more ludicrous, it would have failed. Panic, despotism, and cowardice.