Lord Castlereagh and Madame Grassini dined here last evening.  He was much amused with the raciness and originality of her remarks; and she was greatly gratified by the polite attention with which he listened to them.  At one moment, she pronounced him to be “la vraie image de ce cher et bon Lord Castlereagh,” whom she had so much liked; and the next she declared him to be exactly like “ce preux chevalier, son pere,” who was so irresistible that no female heart, or, as she said, at least no Italian female heart, could resist him.

Then she spoke of “ce cher et excellent Duc de Wellington,” who had been so kind to her, asked a thousand questions about him, the tears starting into her brilliant eyes as she dwelt on the reminiscences of those days when, considered the finest singer and most beautiful woman of her time, she received a homage accorded to her beauty and talent never since so universally decreed to any other prima donna.  The Grassini cannot be known without being liked, she is so warm-hearted, unaffected, and sincere.

The prettiest sight imaginable was a party of our friends in sledges, who yesterday passed through the streets.  This was the first time I had ever seen this mode of conveyance, and nothing can be more picturesque.  The sledge of the Duc de Guiche, in which reclined the Duchesse, the Duc seated behind her and holding, at each side of her, the reins of the horse, presented the form of a swan, the feathers beautifully sculptured.  The back of this colossal swan being hollowed out, admitted a seat, which, with the whole of the interior, was covered with fine fur.  The harness and trappings of the superb horse that drew it were richly decorated, and innumerable silver bells were attached to it, the sound of which was pleasant to the ear.

The Duchesse, wrapped in a pelisse of the finest Russian sable, never looked handsomer than in her sledge, her fair cheeks tinged with a bright pink by the cold air, and her luxuriant silken curls falling on the dark fur that encircled her throat.

Count A. d’Orsay’s sledge presented the form of a dragon, and the accoutrements and horse were beautiful; the harness was of red morocco, embroidered with gold.  The Prince Poniatowski and Comte Valeski followed in sledges of the ordinary Russian shape, and the whole cavalcade had a most picturesque effect.  The Parisians appeared to be highly delighted with the sight, and, above all, with the beautiful Duchesse borne along through the snow in her swan.

My medical adviser pressed me so much to accede to the wishes of my friends and try the salutary effect of a drive in a sledge, that I yesterday accompanied them to St.-Cloud, where we dined, and returned at night by torch-light.  Picturesque as is the appearance of the sledges by day-light, it is infinitely more so by night, particularly of those that have the form of animals or birds.

The swan of the Duchesse de Guiche had bright lamps in its eyes, which sent forth a clear light that was reflected in prismatic colours on the drifted snow, and ice-gemmed branches of the trees, as we drove through the Bois de Boulogne.  Grooms, bearing lighted torches, preceded each sledge; and the sound of the bells in the Bois, silent and deserted at that hour, made one fancy one’s self transported to some far northern region.