I wanted to go at half-past eight, but my man was so sure they could not be risen from dinner, that he persuaded me not to set off till twenty minutes before nine, by which delay I failed to see the King, who, tired out with business, was gone to bed before I arrived. I was alone, and I really thought the long suite of rooms would have no end. At last I was shewn into a long room, at the end of which I saw some ladies sitting round a table; as I entered, an English lady, coming out, caught my hand, and said, “I must speak to you.” I returned the pressure, saying, “I remember thee;” and then saw la Marquise de D. coming to meet me. “Je viens à vôtre secours” said she, and we approached the table, on which the Queen, and la Princesse d’Orléans, rose, and said, “bon jour, Madame Opie,” the Queen adding, “Sit down by me, I am glad to see you, I have read your works,”—and so forth. My friend, the Marquise, sat on the other side; round the table, sat two of the princesses, and some dames d’honneur, and the Dukes of Orléans and Nemours were standing near it. I cannot tell thee all the conversation that ensued, nor all the interesting questions which I had to answer; but I found the Queen a very pious-minded woman, and thou wilt think so, when I tell thee one of her most favourite works, and one she has given to her daughters, is the life of Mary Fletcher, the methodist, lately translated into French. The Queen, at length, resumed her work, (making a sort of silk charpie or lint, to stuff chauffe pieds with.) “As it is Sunday (said she) I cannot do any other work; but I do not like to sit idle, and when one works it is pleasant to know one is working for the poor—this is for a lottery for the poor.” I asked the Marquise the name of the lady I had met going out. “Walker.” “Then I was right,” I cried. “Oui Madame Opie,” said the Queen, “I knew her well.” “And she was one of my most intimate friends,” said Mademoiselle d’Orléans. “And she was very good to me,” said I, instantly recollecting (what I did not choose to mention, namely,) that being in the habit of singing Italian duos formerly, with that very lady, and going one night, by invitation, to a musical party at her house, when I entered, she came up to me, saying, “Oh! my dear, I am so sorry: I invited you this evening in order to present you to the Count d’Artois, (Charles Dix,) I wanted him to hear you sing, but he is ill, and can’t come!” I do not know how many years afterwards, and after a long separation, I met my singing friend, her daughter, in the palace of Louis Philippe! * * * *

I am thine, with love to distribute,

A. Opie.

[32]	The Abbé Gregoire, who, with Lafayette, and thirty-eight more, is the only survivor of the twelve hundred (I think) who formed the first National Assembly. I knew him twenty-seven years ago, here.—A. O.

[33]	One of the “Lays for the Dead” (page 63) commemorates this event.

[34]	Mr. J. J. Gurney’s “Letter to a friend on the Authority, Purposes, and Effects, of Christianity.” This Tractate Mrs. Opie had translated into French during her stay in Paris.

CHAPTER XIX.

INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP; MRS. OPIE RETURNS TO ENGLAND; GIVES UP HOUSEKEEPING; JOURNEY INTO CORNWALL; LETTERS AND JOURNAL DURING HER RESIDENCE THERE.