The Stanleys and we were all in a flow of talk, and some flunkys had done setting coffee-pots and tea-cups of a sublime pattern, when Her Majesty, punctual to the minute, glided in, escorted by her dame-in-waiting (a Duchess Dowager of Athol), and by the Princess Louise, decidedly a very pretty young lady, and clever too, as I found out in talking to her afterwards. The Queen came softly forward, a kindly little smile on her face, gently shook hands with all the three women, gently acknowledged with a nod the silent bows of us male monsters; and directly in her presence every one was at ease again. She is a comely little lady, with a pair of kind, clear, and intelligent gray eyes; still looks almost young (in spite of one broad wrinkle which shows on each cheek occasionally); is still plump; has a fine, low voice, soft; indeed, her whole manner is melodiously perfect. It is impossible to imagine a _politer_ little woman; nothing the least imperious; all gentle, all sincere, looking unembarrassing,--rather attractive even; makes you feel, too (if you have any sense in you), that she is Queen. After a little word to each of us--to me it was, “Sorry you did not see my daughter” (Princess of Prussia), or “all sorry,” perhaps so; which led us to Potsdam, Berlin, &c., for an instant or two. To Sir Charles Lyell I heard her say, “Gold in Sutherland”--but quickly and delicately cut him short in responding. To Browning, “Are you writing anything?” (who has just been publishing the absurdest things!) To Grote I did not hear what she said, but it was touch-and-go with everybody--Majesty visibly _without_ interest, or nearly so, of her own. After this, coffee (very black and muddy) was handed round, Queen and three women taking seats, Queen in the corner of a sofa, Lady Deaness in opposite corner, Mrs. Grote in a chair _intrusively_ close to Majesty; Lady Lyell modestly at the diagonal corner; we others obliged to stand and hover within call.