Yesterday we dined--for the last time, alas! this season--with excellent Benjamin Delessert. The red book which you will receive with this letter was among the many other pretty books lying on the table before dinner, and I was so much delighted with it, and wished so much that Pakenham was looking at it with me, that dear François Delessert procured a copy of _Les Animaux savants_ for me the next morning. We never saw Les Cerfs at Tivoli, but we saw a woman walk down a rope in the midst of the fireworks, and I could not help shutting my eyes. As I was looking at the picture of the stag rope-dancer in this book, and talking of the wonderful intelligence and feeling of animals, an old lady who was beside me told me that some Spanish horses she had seen were uncommonly proud-spirited, always resenting an insult more than an injury. One of these, who had been used to be much caressed by his master, saw him in a field one day talking to a friend, and came up, according to his custom, to be caressed. The horse put his head in between the master and his friend, to whom he was talking; the master, eager in conversation, gave him a box on the ear; the horse withdrew his head instantly, took it for an affront, and never more would he permit his master to caress or mount him again. The little _dessert_ directed for Pakenham [Footnote: Her youngest brother.] was picked out for him from a dish of bonbons at the last dessert at Benjamin's. It is impossible to tell you all the little exquisite instances of kindness and attention we have received from this excellent family. The respect, affection, and admiration with which, _à propos_ to everything great and small, they remember my father and mother, is most touching and gratifying. Yesterday morning we had been talking of Mrs. Hofland's _Son of a Genius_, which is very well translated under the name of _Ludovico._ I told Madame Gautier the history of Mrs. Hofland, and then went to look for the lines which she wrote on my father's birthday. Madame Gautier followed me into this cabinet to read them. I then showed to her Sophy's lines, which I love so much. Sophy! I see your colour rising; but trust to me! I will never do you any harm. Madame Gautier was exceedingly touched with them. She pointed to the line, Those days are past which never can return,