This morning in the Park I could not restrain a hearty laugh at a young lord, who has not profited much by his residence at Paris, and whose beautiful horse attracted more admiration than himself. "Quel beau cheval que vous avez là!" said I. "Oui," replied he, with his English accent; "je l'ai fait moi même, et pour celà je lui suis beaucoup attaché." Is not this almost as good as the deaf Russian officer in B----, to whom the King said, on the entrance of a surgeon, "Ce poisson là est bien fréquent chez vous." "Oui, Sire," replied he, with a profound bow, "je l'ai été pendant quinze ans." 'Rex Judæorum' gave a magnificent dinner, the dessert of which alone, as he told me, cost a hundred pounds. I sat next to a very clever woman, Mrs. A----, the friend of the Duke of W----, a very characteristic, acute, un-English physiognomy,--you may think what an 'enragée' politician. I must have annoyed her excessively; in the first place I am a great Canningite; in the second, I hate politics at dinner. We had a great exhibition of splendour. The table service was of vermillion and silver; that of the dessert, I think, all gold. Under the portrait of Prince Metternich (a present from the original) in an adjoining room, was a large gold box, perhaps a copy of the Ark of the Covenant. A concert succeeded the dinner, at which Mr. Moschelles played as enchantingly as his wife looked. It was not till two o'clock that I got away to a rout at the Duke of Northumberland's, a small party of about a thousand persons. Music was performed in an immense picture-gallery, at thirty degrees of Reaumur. The crowd and bustle was however so great that we heard little of it. The atmosphere was like that of the black-hole at Calcutta. Are these really the amusements of civilized nations! _May 31st._ The rich Lady L----, with whose 'black diamonds' her complexion forms the most agreeable contrast, and whose 'air chiffonné' is quite original, showed me her bazaar this morning. It is no common one, for it contained jewels to the amount of three hundred thousand reichsthalers. The whole boudoir full of perfumes, flowers, and rarities, the 'clair obscur' of rose-coloured curtains, and the Marchioness herself in a dress of yellow gauze, reclined on her chaise longue 'plongée dans une douce langueur;'--it was a pretty picture of 'refinement.' Diamonds and pearls, pens and ink, books, letters, toys and seals, and an unfinished purse, lay before her. Among the seals, two were piquant, from their contrast,--the one from Lord Byron: "Love will find its way Where wolves would fear to stray."