over, the whole pit turned round to the Princess’s box and applauded _her_. We who were in attendance on her Royal Highness entreated her to rise and make a curtsy, but she sat _immoveable_; and, at last, turning round, she said to Lady ----: “My dear, Punch’s wife is nobody when Punch is present.” We all laughed, but still thought it wrong not to acknowledge the compliment paid her; but she was right, as the sequel will prove. “We shall be hissed,” said Sir W. Gell. “No, no,” again replied the Princess, with infinite good humour; “I know my business better than to take the morsel out of my husband’s mouth. I am not to seem to know that the applause is meant for me till they call my name.” The Prince seemed to verify her words, for he got up and bowed to the audience. This was construed into a bow to the Princess, most unfortunately; I say most unfortunately, because she has been blamed for not returning it. But I, who was an eye-witness of the circumstance, knew that the Princess acted just as she ought to have done. The fact was that the Prince took the applause to himself, and his friends, to save him from the imputation of this ridiculous vanity, chose to say that he did the most beautiful and elegant thing in the world, and bowed to his wife! When the opera was finished, the Prince and his supporters were applauded, but not enthusiastically, and scarcely had his Royal Highness left the box when the people called for the Princess, and gave her a very warm applause. She then went forward and made three curtsies, and hastily withdrew.’[15] The semi-ovation in the house was followed by a demonstration something more noisy in the streets. The Princess’s charioteer was unable to drive through the crowd of vehicles in Charles Street. The carriage was therefore, ‘backed’ and driven round by Carlton House. In front of this royal residence the mob surrounded her Royal Highness, saluting her with loud and reiterated shouts. The ladies who were accompanying her were more alarmed at the popular demonstration than _she_ was. The people opened the carriage door, insisted on shaking hands with her, and asked if they should burn Carlton House. ‘No, my good people,’ was her reply; ‘be quite quiet, let me pass, and go home to your beds.’ They then allowed the carriage to pass on its way, as she desired, but they continued following it as long as they had strength, swiftness, and breath enough, shouting the while the favourite cry, ‘The Princess of Wales for ever!’ She was pleased, says the original narrator of this scene, at this demonstration of feeling in her favour, and she never showed so much dignity or looked so well, we are told, as she did under this excitement. She was depressed in spirits, however, the next day, for the same people crowded the parks, and flung those strong salutes which so offended the delicate Casca, at the company of foreign sovereigns and princes who were riding in the ring, and who refused to