We feel like children with a new plaything, in our beautiful house; but how, after it, shall we ever be able to reconcile ourselves to the comparatively dingy rooms in St. James’s Square, which no furniture or decoration could render any thing like the Hotel Ney?

The Duc and Duchesse de Guiche leave Paris, to my great regret, in a few days, and will be absent six weeks.  He is to command the encampment at Luneville, and she is to do the honours—­giving dinners, balls, concerts, and soirees, to the ladies who accompany their lords to “the tented field,” and to the numerous visitors who resort to see it.  They have invited us to go to them, but we cannot accept their kindness.  They are

     “On hospitable thoughts intent,”

and will, I doubt not, conciliate the esteem of all with whom they come in contact.

He is so well bred, that the men pardon his superiority both of person and manner; and she is so warm-hearted and amiable, that the women, with a few exceptions, forgive her rare beauty.  How we shall miss them, and the dear children, too!

Drove in the Bois de Boulogne yesterday, with the Duchesse de Guiche:  met my old acquaintance, Lord Yarmouth, who is as amusing and original as ever.

He has great natural talent and knowledge of the world, but uses both to little purpose, save to laugh at its slaves.  He might be any thing he chose, but he is too indolent for exertion, and seems to think le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.  He is one of the many clever people spoilt by being born to a great fortune and high rank, advantages which exclude the necessity of exercising the talents he possesses.

It is, however, no trifling merit, that born to immense wealth and high station, he should he wholly free from arrogance, or ostentation.

At length, the secret is out, the doors of my chambre a coucher and dressing-room are opened, and I am delighted with both.  The whole fitting up is in exquisite taste, and, as usual, when my most gallant of all gallant husbands that it ever fell to the happy lot of woman to possess, interferes, no expense has been spared.

The bed, which is silvered, instead of gilt, rests on the backs of two large silver swans, so exquisitely sculptured that every feather is in alto-relievo, and looks nearly as fleecy as those of the living bird.  The recess in which it is placed is lined with white fluted silk, bordered with blue embossed lace; and from the columns that support the frieze of the recess, pale blue silk curtains, lined with white, are hung, which, when drawn, conceal the recess altogether.

The window curtain is of pale blue silk, with embroidered muslin curtains, trimmed with lace inside them, and have borders of blue and white lace to match those of the recess.

A silvered sofa has been made to fit the side of the room opposite the fire-place, near to which stands a most inviting bergere.  An ecritoire occupies one panel, a bookstand the other, and a rich coffer for jewels forms a pendant to a similar one for lace, or India shawls.