Poor Philip went to school to-day, to the great regret of all the party, for he is a general favourite. Such a lively little monkey I never saw. On Sunday Roast Beef and Plum Pudding [1] dined with us, and were entertaining as usual, also Orator Milnes, who was quite fascinating, the first time I ever saw him so! He is perfectly different with his town face to what he appears in Yorkshire. Yesterday we had a pleasant _dinnette_. In the evening Lady Glyn arrived _bien triste_, and Mrs Beaumont all magnificence for Lady Castlereagh's. We were much surprised to find Count Holmar [2] in town, but we have had the mystery explained. He took the Princes back to their own country, and then came back here on account of his love for Miss Gifford, Lady Lansdowne's daughter by her first husband. [3] She is pretty and clever, without much fortune, but Lord Lansdowne has taken a fancy to her, has settled Southampton Castle upon her, and having no child of his own, intends making her an heiress. The young lady does not like the Count much, but her friends wish it, so there are delicacies and difficulties enough for a novel of the first order. He spent three months there this autumn, and certainly as far as a pale cheek, sunk eyes, and slender form can prove anything, he is either hopelessly consumptive or in love. So much for him! Mrs Beaumont is quite on her high horse. 'Tis said _he_ has asked for a peerage on account of his _overwhelming_ influence in the county of York, all of which he employed in favour of Lord Milton! Bravo, say I! Another story is that he has had the offer of a Swedish order, fees £150, a sky-blue ribbon, which gives no place, and the honour of being a Sir, not hereditary. I never heard of its being conferred on any but dancing masters and medical geniuses. My father has become acquainted with Mrs Knox, and is much charmed with her. He says they seem to live in prodigious style, have a magnificent house, as finely furnished as Bretton. She said her son mentioned you in the highest terms. We were at the Opera on Saturday. Fuller of men I never saw it; the boxes thin. The Duchess of A. was there looking _fade_. Kelly's room is at an end; so we had the pleasure of waiting, or rather starving in the great room for near an hour. Marianne Stanhope, later, thus describes this room at the Opera where the audience assembled on leaving, and where each lady who was unattended by a cavalier of her own family, strove anxiously to escape the crowning ignominy of not having a beau to "hand her to her carriage."