The state dinner at the Embassy, yesterday, coming off in the room where I am to read, the carpenters did not get in until this morning. But their platforms were ready--or supposed to be--and the preparations are in brisk progress. I think it will be a handsome affair to look at--a very handsome one. There seems to be great artistic curiosity in Paris, to know what kind of thing the reading is. I know a "rela-shon" (with one weak eye), who is in the gunmaking line, very near here. There is a strong family resemblance--but no muzzle. Lady Molesworth and I have not begun to "toddle" yet, but have exchanged affectionate greetings. I am going round to see her presently, and I dine with her on Sunday. The only remaining news is, that I am beset by mysterious adorers, and smuggle myself in and out of the house in the meanest and basest manner. With kind regard to Mr. and Mrs. Humphery, Ever, my dearest Mamey, your affectionate Father. P.S.--_Hommage a Madame B.!_ [Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.] PARIS, _Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1863._ MY DEAR REGNIER, I was charmed by the receipt of your cordial and sympathetic letter, and I shall always preserve it carefully as a most noble tribute from a great and real artist. I wished you had been at the Embassy on Friday evening. The audience was a fine one, and the "Carol" is particularly well adapted to the purpose. It is an uncommon pleasure to me to learn that I am to meet you on Tuesday, for there are not many men whom I meet with greater pleasure than you. Heaven! how the years roll by! We are quite old friends now, in counting by years. If we add sympathies, we have been friends at least a thousand years. Affectionately yours ever. [Sidenote: Miss Dickens.] HOTEL DU HELDER, PARIS, _Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1863._ MY DEAREST MAMIE, I cannot give you any idea of the success of the readings here, because no one can imagine the scene of last Friday night at the Embassy. Such audiences and such enthusiasm I have never seen, but the thing culminated on Friday night in a two hours' storm of excitement and pleasure. They actually recommenced and applauded right away into their carriages and down the street. You know your parent's horror of being lionised, and will not be surprised to hear that I am half dead of it. I cannot leave here until Thursday (though I am every hour in danger of running away) because I have to dine out, to say nothing of breakfasting--think of me breakfasting!--every intervening day. But my project is to send John home on Thursday, and then to go on a little perfectly quiet tour for about ten days, touching the sea at Boulogne. When I get there, I will write to your aunt (in case you should not be at home), saying when I shall arrive at the office. I must go to the office instead of Gad's, because I have much to do with Forster about Elliotson.