o creditable to her genius.

Charles Kemble rendered ample justice to his daughter's Tragedy by his
mode of reading it; and we counted not the hours devoted to the task.
How many reminiscences of the olden time were called up by hearing him!

I remembered those pleasant evenings when he used to read to us in
London, hour after hour, until the timepiece warned us to give over. I
remembered, too, John Kemble--"the great John Kemble," as Lord
Guildford used to call him--twice or thrice reading to us with Sir T.
Lawrence; and the tones of Charles Kemble's voice, and the expression
of his face, forcibly reminded me of our departed friend.

I have scarcely met with a more high-bred man, or a more agreeable
companion, than Charles Kemble. Indeed, were I called on to name the
professional men I have known most distinguished for good breeding and
manners, I should name our four tragedians,--the two Kembles, Young,
and Macready.

Sir Francis Burdett dined here yesterday _en famille_, and we passed
two very pleasant hours. He related to us many amusing and interesting
anecdotes connected with his political life.

Went to the Opera in the evening, whither he accompanied us. I like my
box very much. It is in the centre of the house, is draped with pale
blue silk, and has very comfortable chairs. The Parisians are, I find,
as addicted to staring as the English; for many were the glasses
levelled last night at Sir Francis Burdett who, totally unconscious of
the attention he excited, was wholly engrossed by the "Count Ory," some
of the choruses in which pleased me very much.

A visit to-day from our excellent and valued friend, Sir A. Barnard,
who has promised to dine with us to-morrow. Paris is now filling very
fast, which I regret, as I dislike crowds and having my time broken in
upon.

I become more convinced every day I live, that quiet and repose are the
secrets of happiness, for I never feel so near an approach to this
blessing as when in the possession of them. General society is a heavy
tax on time and patience, and one that I feel every year less
inclination to pay, as I witness the bad effect it produces not only on
the habits but on the mind.

Oh! the weariness of listening for hours to the repetition of past
gaieties, or the anticipation of future ones, to the commonplace
remarks or stupid conversation of persons whose whole thoughts are
engrossed by the frivolous amusements of Paris, which are all and every
thing