made our DEBUT in London on the first day of November (the suicidal
month you know) in the midst of an orange-colored fog, in which you
could not see your hand before you. The prospect for the winter
seemed, I must say, rather "triste," but the next day the fog
cleared off, people came constantly to see us, and we had agreeable
invitations for every day, and London put on a new aspect. Out
first dinner was at Lord Palmerston's, where we met what the
newspapers call a distinguished circle. The Marquis of Lansdowne,
Lord and Lady John Russell, Marquis and Marchioness of Clanricarde
(Canning's daughter), Earl and Countess Grey, Sir George and Lady
Grey, etc., etc. I was taken out by Lord Palmerston, with Lord Grey
on the other side, and found the whole thing very like one of our
Washington dinners, and I was quite as much at my ease, and they
seemed made of the same materials as our cabinet at home. I have
since dined at Lord Morpeth's, Lord John Russell's, Lord Mahon's,
Dr. Holland's, Baron Parke's, The Prussian Minister's, and to-day we
dine with the Duchess of Inverness, the widow of the Duke of Sussex;
to-morrow with Mr. Milman, a prebend of Westminster and a
distinguished man of letters. We have been at a great many SOIREES,
at Lady Palmerston's, Lady Grey's, Lord Auckland's, Lady Lewis's,
etc., etc.

And now, having given you some idea WHOM we are seeing here, you
will wish to know how I like them, and how they differ from our own
people. At the smaller dinners and SOIREES at this season I cannot,
of course, receive a full impression of English society, but
certainly those persons now in town are charming people. Their
manners are perfectly simple and I entirely forget, except when
their historic names fall upon my ear, that I am with the proud
aristocracy of England. All the persons whose names I have