Bülow dedicated a song to me, called "Adieu." It is pretty enough to
sing when he plays the accompaniment, but otherwise I do not care for
it. I sang it after dinner, and every one said it was charming, but I
had the feeling that the ladies were more interested in my toilette
than in Bülow's song. I don't blame them, for my dress _is_ lovely
(Worth called it "_un rêve_"), but I fancy I look like a Corot autumn
sunset reflected in a stagnant lily-pond. It is of light salmon-colored
satin, with a tulle overskirt and clusters of water-lilies here and
there. I could have bought a real Corot with the same money.

Mr. Blaine, who is at present Speaker of the House, and Mr. Roscoe
Conkling, one of the Senators from New York, are the two most prominent
members of the Republican party, but are personally deadly enemies.

Mr. Blaine is an excellent talker, very popular with the ladies. In a
drawing-room, he is generally found in a corner, quoting poetry (a
specialty of his) to some handsome lady. He knows all the poetry in the
world! They say that he is the best Speaker the House has ever known;
it is quite wonderful to see the rapidity with which he counts the Ayes
and Noes, pointing at each voter with the handle of his club. He grasps
a situation in an instant, and gives a quick retort when he thinks it
is deserved. Roscoe Conkling is quite a different type. He is very
dignified and pompous--perhaps a little theatrical; not at all a
society man, and, though he may be less vain than Mr. Blaine, he has
the appearance of being more so.

The foreign Ministers have the "right of the floor," which means they
have the right to enter the House of Representatives when they like. On
one great occasion a member of the House offered M. de Schlözer his