One must own to a feeling of disappointment on driving up, for the entrance door is meagre and indifferent, and the downstairs cloak-rooms are not imposing. Nevertheless, the dividing staircase once reached, all is changed. At its foot is the famous marble statue of the late Lord Salisbury by Herbert Hampton, the cast for which I had gazed on so often when my own bust was being modelled. The well is not so large as in Stafford House, nor so imposing as in Dorchester House, so the spectators do not stand all round, but on one side only; besides, the aspect is somewhat contracted. Still, half-way up the Foreign Minister, with several officials and a sprinkling of ladies, stands and receives. Those who have the entrée pass up the stairs on his left hand; those without it pass up on his right. Masses of flowers festoon the marble balustrade; their scent is heavy in the air. What a strange crowd it is! Some of the most renowned men and women in Europe are present. Gorgeous ladies in magnificent gowns, with sparkling tiaras, are escorted by gentlemen ablaze with stars and orders. Then come a humble little Labour Member in a blue serge coat, and his wife in an ill-fitting blouse. At the top of the stairs the crowd disperses to the Great Hall, where the one and only picture represents William III. Beyond this is the room used in the last Administration for Cabinet meetings—for this particular reception took place in 1907—and where also Sir Edward Grey, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, had just given his full-dress dinner. Here refreshments were served, and here also the band of the Grenadier Guards played during the evening. Among the visitors were Ambassadors from foreign States, besides diplomats attached to the various Embassies, with their wives, Ministers and Ladies of the Legations, Consuls and Consuls-General of foreign countries, heads of Departments, and Chiefs of Government Offices; representatives of the Army, Navy, Church, Art, Literature, Drama, etc. The decorations worn by the men certainly improve their appearance and add to the brilliancy of the scene, but stars own sharp, angular points, which have a way of scratching bare arms, as the writer knows to her cost. About eleven o’clock the strains of “God Save the King” were heard, and shortly afterwards the Royal Procession was formed, and wended its way through all the galleries, until it reached the room where supper was arranged. Young men in official uniform preceded the procession, to clear the way. Then followed the Prime Minister, with the Princess of Wales (now Queen Mary), who has the gift of acquiring greater dignity of manner as years roll on. The Prince of Wales (now King George V.) came next, and, with that extraordinary genial gift of recognition, apparently inherited from his father, he stopped as he passed through the suite of rooms to shake hands with the people he knew.