The Grand Duke’s tea was delicious.  They give one a lemon to squeeze into it, or iced milk, if he prefers it.  The former is best.  This tea is brought overland from China.  It injures the article to transport it by sea.

When it was time to go, we bade our distinguished hosts good-bye, and they retired happy and contented to their apartments to count their spoons.

We had spent the best part of half a day in the home of royalty, and had been as cheerful and comfortable all the time as we could have been in the ship.  I would as soon have thought of being cheerful in Abraham’s bosom as in the palace of an Emperor.  I supposed that Emperors were terrible people.  I thought they never did any thing but wear magnificent crowns and red velvet dressing-gowns with dabs of wool sewed on them in spots, and sit on thrones and scowl at the flunkies and the people in the parquette, and order Dukes and Duchesses off to execution.  I find, however, that when one is so fortunate as to get behind the scenes and see them at home and in the privacy of their firesides, they are strangely like common mortals.  They are pleasanter to look upon then than they are in their theatrical aspect.  It seems to come as natural to them to dress and act like other people as it is to put a friend’s cedar pencil in your pocket when you are done using it.  But I can never have any confidence in the tinsel kings of the theatre after this.  It will be a great loss.  I used to take such a thrilling pleasure in them.  But, hereafter, I will turn me sadly away and say;

“This does not answer—­this isn’t the style of king that I am acquainted with.”

When they swagger around the stage in jeweled crowns and splendid robes, I shall feel bound to observe that all the Emperors that ever I was personally acquainted with wore the commonest sort of clothes, and did not swagger.  And when they come on the stage attended by a vast body-guard of supes in helmets and tin breastplates, it will be my duty as well as my pleasure to inform the ignorant that no crowned head of my acquaintance has a soldier any where about his house or his person.

Possibly it may be thought that our party tarried too long, or did other improper things, but such was not the case.  The company felt that they were occupying an unusually responsible position—­they were representing the people of America, not the Government—­and therefore they were careful to do their best to perform their high mission with credit.

On the other hand, the Imperial families, no doubt, considered that in entertaining us they were more especially entertaining the people of America than they could by showering attentions on a whole platoon of ministers plenipotentiary and therefore they gave to the event its fullest significance, as an expression of good will and friendly feeling toward the entire country.  We took the kindnesses we received as attentions thus directed, of course, and not to ourselves as a party.  That we felt a personal pride in being received as the representatives of a nation, we do not deny; that we felt a national pride in the warm cordiality of that reception, can not be doubted.