their eyes, and exclaim, “Oh! He is such a wonner!” I do not like that the pretty women should pay him so many compliments — it will turn his little head! He is now almost well, and so handsome! the wrinkles are almost gone-Yesterday, Sir Robert Inglis gin us a treat in the shape of a breakfast — it was very pleasant, albeit Sir R. is very pious, and a Tory to boot. We had afterward a charming visit from Carlyle — in the evening we went to Landsdowne House, to a concert given by the Marquis — heard Grisi, Lablache, Mario, Standigl, were much pleased — I was astonished, though, to find that our little trio at home was not bad, even in comparison with these stars. They have, of course, infinitely better voices, but hang me if they sing with half the enthusiasm and fire of our old Sam and Cousi, or even of poor Dudy. Grisi's voice is beautifully clear and flute-like — Mario sings si-be-mol and natural with perfect ease. I was most interested in the German Standigl, who sang the Wanderer with wonderful pathos. Lablache thundered away — I must see them on the stage before I shall be able to judge of them. After music we had supper. Willie Wad 1 was indefatigable in our service. “Go, and bring us a great deal more lemonade!” these were our oftrepeated orders, and the good Geneseo trotted to the table for us, till, as he expressed it, “he was ashamed to go any more.” Lansdowne is a devilish good fellow! ho! ho! He wears a blue belt across his diaphragm, and a silver star on his left breast — he jigs up and down the room, and makes himself at home in his own
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