romance, having a manner suave and infinitely
deferential, but oh! so under-handed and insidious and diabolical! The
duc de Broglie was the French ambassador in London at the time of my
visit, and of all the corps his person and countenance possessed much
the most distinction. His was a distinction of spirit and intellect:
the distinction of the other continental "swells" was usually one of
stomach and whiskers.

Behind each ambassador march the secretaries of the embassy. After the
ambassadors come the ministers. The whole diplomatic corps moves from
an anteroom into an apartment in which the prince of Wales awaits
them. The prince and several of his brothers, his cousins, the duke
of Cambridge and the prince of Teck, stand up in a row like an
old-fashioned spelling class. Next to the prince, on his right, stands
Viscount Sidney, the lord chamberlain, who calls off each detachment
as it approaches--"Austrian ambassador," "the Spanish minister," "the
United States minister," etc. The prince shakes hands with the head
of the embassy or mission, and bows to the secretaries. When the
diplomatists, cabinet ministers and household officers have all made
their bow, it is the turn of British society. The diplomatic
circle, and such as have the _entree_ to it, remain in the room: the
Englishmen pass out. The lord chamberlain in a loud voice calls off
the name of each person as he appears, so that each comer is, as it
were, labeled and ticketed. The observer learns quite as much as
if the lord chamberlain was the verger and was showing off his
collection.

One may often guess the rank or importance of the courtier by the
manner of his reception. If he shakes hands with the prince, you may
know he is somebody--if he shakes hands with all five or six of the
princes, you may know he is a very great person. But if he gives the
princes a wide berth, bows hastily and glances furtively at them, and
runs by skittishly, then you may know that he is some half-pay colonel
or insignificant civil servant. Something, too, may be inferred from
the length of time the lord chamberlain takes to decipher the name
of the comer on the slip of paper which is handed him. If he scans
it long and hard, and holds it a good way from him and says "Major
Te--e--e--bosh--bow," then in a loud voice, "Major Tebow," you will
be safe in thinking that Major Tebow is not one of the greatest of
warriors or largest of landed proprietors.

The ceremony lasts an h