We are all rather exhausted after the Christmas tree; however, the children were quite pleased, and the tree really very pretty. A gigantic pine, reaching to the top of the ceiling in the ballroom, a star on the top and very well lighted. We had 34 children of all ages and nationalities, from Nadine Karolyi, aged 18, daughter of Count Karolyi, Austrian Ambassador and Doyen of the Corps Diplomatique, to Florence Williams' baby girl of 16 months. The little ones were sweet, speechless at first, with round eyes fixed on the tree, and then little fat arms stretched out for something. The children's tea-table looked pretty, arranged with coloured candles and holly, and an enormous Christmas cake in the middle with a wreath of holly around it. Nadine Karolyi cut the first slice of cake, as daughter of the Doyen she sat on Francis's right hand, and Thekla Staal, daughter of the Russian Ambassador, on his left. W. was much amused at the correct placing of the young ladies. We start to-morrow for Knowsley and Luton Hoo, and the packing is quite an affair. I take 10 dresses, besides jackets, hats, etc. I must have short costumes to follow the battues for fine and bad weather--a swell day dress, as we are to lunch at Croxteth, Lord Sefton's place near Knowsley; and two ball dresses, as there is to be a county ball for all the neighbourhood at Luton, New Year's night, and a small dance with a cotillon (which is unusual in England) the next night. Adelaide is rather fatigued, as besides my trunk she has to finish off her toilettes, and she has just come in to ask me if she shall take the regulation black silk, or a blue silk, which is more dressy; as they tell her the _ladies_ in the housekeeper's room are very dressy at Luton. I said the blue silk by all means--she must be up to the mark. The fog has kept up pretty well all day. I hope it will clear to-morrow, we are going straight into the coal country. Knowsley is near Liverpool, and I fancy it is always dark there. I was telling Nigra the other day about our first Roman Christmas and what an impression it made upon us. Such a splendid winter, always a bright blue sky, and roses straggling over all the old grey walls. The Pifferari singing to the Madonnas at all the street corners, the midnight Mass and mysterious Pastorale in St. Peter's at early dawn with the tapers trembling on the high altar so far away; and the grand Christmas ceremony at St. Peter's, with all the magnificent pomp of the Catholic Church in Rome. We talked on for some time about "Roma com' era," which of course he doesn't regret, and I told him of our last night in Rome, when we all went "en bande" to drink at the Fountain of Trevi (which is supposed to act as a charm and to bring people back to Rome). I remember quite well how tearful I was when we left. I didn't think then that life was worth living out of the shadow of St. Peter's, and think so a little still even now, though my lines have lain in very different places.