feeling. A vast crowd escorted the carriage of Mr. Hamilton, the
Secretary of the Embassy, to his door, as he returned from his first
accredited audience of the new monarch, and cries of _Vivent les
Anglais!_ filled the air. As Mr. Hamilton resides in the house next to
the one I occupy, I had an opportunity of beholding this ovation
offered to him, and the people certainly evinced very groat enthusiasm
on the occasion.

M. Thiers, M. Mignet, Count Valeski, and Mr. Francis Raring, dined here
yesterday. M. Thiers was very brilliant and amusing. It is impossible
to meet him even once without being struck with the remarkable talent
that characterises every sentence he utters; and yet each observation
comes forth with such spirit and vivacity, that it is easy to see it
has been elicited at the moment by some remark from another, and not
from meditation.

There is a hardiness in his conceptions, and an epigrammatic terseness
in the expression of them, that command attention; and the readiness
with which he seizes, analyses, and disposes of a question, betrays
such a versatility of mental power as to convey a conviction that he is
a man who cannot fail to fill a distinguished place in France, where,
at present, abilities furnish the master-key that opens the door to
honours and fortune. M. Thiers appears to entertain a consciousness of
his talents, but does not, I really think, overrate them.

The Prince and Princess Soutzo with their family, spent yesterday with
us. Their eldest daughter, the Princess Helena, is a beautiful girl,
with captivating manners, and highly cultivated mind, and the little
Mary, though still in infancy, is one of the cleverest children I ever
saw. Never did I see young people better brought up than are the sons
and daughters of this excellent couple, or a more united family.

Mr. and Miss Poulter, and William Spencer the poet, I dined here
yesterday. Mr. Poulter is a sensible man, and his sister is well
informed and intelligent.

It is now decided that we go to England! Two years ago I should have
returned there with gladness, but now!--I dread it. How changed will
all appear without _him_ whose ever-watchful affection anticipated
every wish, and realised every hope! I ought to feel pleased at leaving
Paris, where the heaviest trial of my life has occurred, but _here_ I
have now learned to get inured to the privation of his society, while
in England I shall have again to acquire the hard lesson