t orders to serve, coffee, to the ministers, _eau
sucree_, to the secretaries, and, nothing, to the _attaches_. No plea
of heat, fatigue, or exhaustion, was ever suffered to infringe a rule,
founded on the broadest views of diplomatic rank. A cup of coffee thus
became, like a cordon or a star, an honourable and a proud distinction;
and the enviable possessor sipped his Mocha, and coquetted with the
spoon, with a sense of dignity, ordinary men know nothing of in such
circumstances; while the secretary's _eau sucree_ became a goal to
the young aspirant in the career; which must have stirred his early
ambition, and stimulated his ardour for success.

If, as some folk say, human intellect is never more conspicuous, than
where a high order of mind can descend to some paltry, insignificant
circumstance, and bring to its consideration all the force it possesses;
certes diplomatic people must be of a no mean order of capacity.

From the question of a disputed frontier, to that of a place at dinner,
there is but one spring from the course of a river towards the sea, and
a procession to table, the practised mind bounds as naturally, as though
it were a hop, and a step. A case in point occurred some short time
since at Frankfort.

The etiquette in this city gives the president of the diet precedence
of the different members of the _corps diplomatique_, who, however, all
take rank before the rest of the diet.

The Austrian minister, who occupied the post of president, being absent,
the Prussian envoy held the office _ad interim_, and believed that, with
the duties, its privileges became his.

M. Anstett, the Russian envoy, having invited his colleagues to dinner,
the grave question arose who was to go first? On one hand the dowager,
was the Minister of France, who always preceded the others; on the
other was the Prussian, a _pro tempore_ president, and who showed no
disposition to concede his pretensions.

The important moment arrived--the door was flung wide; and an imposing
voice proclaimed--"_Madame la Baronne est servie_." Scarce were the
words spoken, when the Prussian sprang forward, and, offering his arm
gallantly to Madame d'Anstett, led the way, before the Frenchman had
time to look around him.

When the party were seated at table, M. d'Anstett looked about him in
a state of embarrassment and uneasiness: then, suddenly rallying, he
called out in a voice audible throughout the whole room--"Serve the soup
to the Mini