a Moore, a Bulwer, a Hook, or those monopolists of beauty and wit, Mrs. Gore and Mrs. Norton, or those daughters of Apollo, ycleped Mitford, Pardoe, and Strickland had been mingled with her "blue spirits and grey;" but we do mean to say that they were very happy without them, and that much, perhaps all, of the "feast of reason and the flow of soul," for which these distinguished individuals are loved, and sought, and honoured, would have been lost in the melée of dancing, singing, chattering, and flirting, to which the major part of the visitants were devoted.
But it was at her supper-table Lady Anne's talents and the good taste of her daughters were most happily displayed: every one pronounced it "the prettiest thing they had seen," and very pretty it was, considering the size of the rooms, nor was any good thing wanting, for Mr. Palmer's cook was as good a hand at white soup as jellies, and "my son Penrhyn" had sent in the Champagne which Lord Penrhyn (when he arrived on the house breaking up) pronounced to be excellent, glancing towards his lady, who had now succeeded in chaining the Russian prince to her ear approvingly, whilst to her brother was directed a withering look, until he saw that the marquis of Wentworthdale was paying his bride the most de-voted and respectful attention, when the current of his pride took another turn, and he determined to restore Charles to favour, seeing his wife was the fashion. He cast his eye around to find any of the sisters; one of them was
