We cannot refrain from quoting Mrs. Stowe's description of the concert, after dinner at the Stafford house. "The concert room was the brilliant and picturesque hall I have before described to you. It looked more picture like and dreamy than ever. The piano was on the flat stairway just below the broad central landing. It was a grand piano, standing end outward, and perfectly banked up among hot house flowers, so that only its gilded top was visible. Sir George Smart presided. The choicest of the _élite_ were there. Ladies in demi-toilet and bonneted. Miss Greenfield stood among the singers on the staircase, and excited a pathetic murmur among the audience. She is not handsome, but looked very well. She has a pleasing dark face, wore a black velvet head-dress, and white cornelian ear-rings, a black moire antique silk, made high in the neck, with white lace falling sleeves, and white gloves. A certain gentleness of manner and self-possession, the result of the universal kindness shown her, sat well upon her. Chevalier Bunsen, the Prussian Ambassador, sat by me. He looked at her with much interest. "Are the race often as good looking?" he said. I said, "She is not handsome compared with many, though I confess she looks uncommonly well to-day." The singing was beautiful; six of the most cultivated glee singers of London sang, among other things, "Spring's delights are now returning," and "Where the bee sucks, there lurk I." The Duchess said, "These glees are peculiarly English." Miss Greenfield's turn for singing now came, and there was profound attention. Her voice, with its keen, searching fire, its penetrating vibrant quality, its "_timbre_," as the French have it, cut its way like a Damascus blade to the heart. It was the more touching from the occasional rusticities and artistic defects, which showed that she had received no culture from art. She sung the ballad, "Old folks at home," giving one verse in the soprano, and another in the tenor voice. As she stood partially concealed by the piano, Chevalier Bunsen thought that the tenor part was performed by one of the gentlemen. He was perfectly astonished when he discovered that it was by her. This was rapturously encored. Between the parts, Sir George took her to the piano, and tried her voice by skips, striking notes here and there at random, without connexion, from D in alto to A first space in bass clef; she followed with unerring precision, striking the sound nearly at the same instant his finger touched the key. This brought out a burst of applause."