person
where princes are scarce, as they are in England, although in Russia, a
prince, where princes are plenty as blackberries, is about on a par with
an English baronet.

He was a very honest off-hand sort of personage, and certainly gave
himself no airs on account of his birth and rank. Nevertheless, the
English ladies, who were anxious that he should sing again, made a sort
of deputation to him, and begged the honour of his highness favouring
them with a song, with every variety of courtesy and genuflexion.

"Oh yes, to be sure," replied his highness, who sat down and played for
an hour, and then there was so much thanking, complimentary
acknowledgement of condescension on his part, etcetera, and the ladies
appeared so flattered when he spoke to them. The next day it was
discovered that a slight mistake had occurred, and that, instead of
being a prince, he had only come to Geneva along with a Russian prince,
and that the real prince was in his own room upstairs; upon which not
only he fell himself at least 200 per cent, but, what was really too
bad, his singing fell also; and many who had been most loud in his
praises began to discover that he was not even a prince of musicians,
which he certainly was.

We had a good specimen of the independence and familiarity of Swiss
servants on the occasion of this gentleman's singing; they came into the
salon, and mixed almost with the company that they might listen to him;
and had they been ordered out, would, in all probability, have refused.
An American, with whom I was conversing, observed that in _his_ country
such conduct on the part of servants, notwithstanding what had been said
by English travellers on the subject, would never have been permitted.
I have fallen in with some odd characters here.

First, what would be considered a curiosity in England--a clergyman of
the Church of England with mustachios! What would the Bishop of London
say?--and yet I do not see how, if a clergyman choose to wear them, he
could be prevented. He has good authority to quote; Calvin wore them,
and so, I believe, did Luther.

Secondly, with a personage who is very peculiarly disorganised when he
drinks too much. His wife, a most amiable quiet lady, is the party
whose character is attacked. As soon as Mr -- is in his cups, he
immediately fancies that his wife is affected with the liquor, and not
himself, and he tells everybody in a loud whisper his important secret.
"There now, l