Among my Quaker friends I met with that amiable but eccentric person Mrs. Opie. Though a "wet" Quakeress, she continued to wear the peculiar dress. I was told that she was presented in it at the Tuileries, and astonished the French ladies. We were also acquainted with Mrs. Fry, a very different person, and heard her preach. Her voice was fine, her delivery admirable, and her prayer sublime. We were intimate with Mr. (now Sir Charles) Lyell, who, if I mistake not, first met with his wife at our house, where she was extremely admired as the beautiful Miss Horner. Until we lost all our fortune, and went to live at Chelsea, I used to have little evening parties in Hanover Square. * * * * * I was not present at the coronation of George the Fourth; but I had a ticket for the gallery in Westminster Hall, to see the banquet. Though I went very early in the morning, I found a wonderful confusion. I showed my ticket of admission to one official person after another; the answer always was "I know nothing about it." At last I got a good place near some ladies I knew; even at that early hour the gallery was full. Some time after the ceremony in the Abbey was over, the door of the magnificent hall was thrown open, and the king entered in the flowing curls and costume of Henry the Eighth, and, imitating the jaunty manner of that monarch, walked up the hall and sat down on the throne at its extremity. The peeresses had already taken their seats under the gallery, and the king was followed by the peers, and the knights of the Garter, Bath, Thistle, and St. Patrick, all in their robes. After every one had taken his seat, the Champion, on his horse, both in full armour, rode up the hall, and threw down a gauntlet before the king, while the heralds proclaimed that he was ready to do battle with any one who denied that George the Fourth was the liege lord of these realms. Then various persons presented offerings to the king in right of which they held their estates. One gentleman presented a beautiful pair of falcons in their hoods. While this pageantry and noise was at its height, Queen Caroline demanded to be admitted. There was a sudden silence and consternation,--it was like the "handwriting on the wall!" The sensation was intense. At last the order was given to refuse her admittance; the pageantry was renewed, and the banquet followed. The noise, heat, and vivid light of the illumination of the hall gave me a racking headache; at last I went out of the gallery and sat on a stair, where there was a little fresh air, and was very glad when all was over. Years afterwards I was present in Westminster Abbey at the coronation of our Queen, then a pretty young girl of eighteen. Placed in the most trying position at that early age, by her virtues, both public and private, she has endeared herself to the nation beyond what any sovereign ever did before. * * * * *