We have given our Queen’s birthday ball with the greatest success. The whole society met, all in their best dresses and best humour, and St. Cloud turned out a magnificent supper, and we had the singers to follow up the toasts, and altogether it pleased everybody, which is a mercy, considering it is not easy, particularly in the hot weather. Our fireworks for the wedding come off on Wednesday next, but whether they will go off is quite another thing. There is a violent storm about every other night this year, delightful to the gasping inhabitants, but not precisely the thing for either fireworks or illuminations; and, as it never gives more than half-an-hour’s notice, there is no resource. I hope it may succeed for the sake of poor Colonel Powney, who manages the concern, and who has never recovered a total failure of a great rejoicing in the time of Lord W. Bentinck, when, after four months’ preparation and an expense of 5,000l., the damp turned all his fireworks into smoke. Lord W. Bentinck’s family were smoked out of Government House, and the guests were wandering about on the plain all night, unable to find a road home. Ours is on a smaller scale,
