I was asked to sing.  I am afraid that I am only looked upon as a bird on these mighty occasions.  On the piano-stool I felt myself safe, and I sang.  In the middle of my song some heavy person leaning against a shaky bookcase uprooted it, and it fell with a crash on the floor.  I halted midway in my song.  People rushing in from the supper-room asked, “What is the matter?” “Negative,” answered Miss Loring, quick as thought, at which they all laughed.  Mr. Brooks, to cover the confusion, said in a loud voice, “This is not the first time Madame Hegermann has brought down the house.”  There was more laughter, and I sat down again at the piano and sang “Tender and True,” an exquisite song written by Mrs. Lincoln about a young soldier killed during the war, who wore to the last a knot of blue ribbon his sweetheart had given him.

M. de Schloezer is bubbling over with joy, for he has the famous pianist, von Buelow, staying with him at the German Legation.  He says von Buelow is most amiable about playing, and plays whenever he is asked.  His technique is wonderful and perfect.  The ladies in Washington are wild over him, and figuratively throw themselves at his feet.  He is giving two concerts here, and everybody has taken tickets.  M. de Schloezer gave last evening one of his memorable dinners, followed by music.  I know two people who enjoyed it—­Schloezer and myself.  Schloezer was going to ask Julian Sturgis, but Julian Sturgis had on some former occasion crossed his legs and looked distrait or had shown in some such trivial manner that he was bored, which so exasperated Schloezer that he barred him out, and invited Mr. Bayard instead, who perhaps loved music less, but showed no outward signs of boredom.

Von Buelow is not only a wonderful pianist, but a very clever man of the world.  He sent me a book written by Wagner about music and wrote on the first page “Voici un livre qui vous interessera.  De la part du mari de la femme de l’auteur.”  Clever, isn’t it?  You know that Madame Wagner is the daughter of Liszt.  She ran away from von Buelow in order to marry Wagner.

Buelow dedicated a song to me, called “Adieu.”  It is pretty enough to sing when he plays the accompaniment, but otherwise I do not care for it.  I sang it after dinner, and every one said it was charming, but I had the feeling that the ladies were more interested in my toilette than in Buelow’s song.  I don’t blame them, for my dress is lovely (Worth called it “un reve"), but I fancy I look like a Corot autumn sunset reflected in a stagnant lily-pond.  It is of light salmon-colored satin, with a tulle overskirt and clusters of water-lilies here and there.  I could have bought a real Corot with the same money.

Mr. Blaine, who is at present Speaker of the House, and Mr. Roscoe Conkling, one of the Senators from New York, are the two most prominent members of the Republican party, but are personally deadly enemies.