We had Rossini last night. He must have been much pleased with his reception; the King was quite enraptured at having him. The singing is delicious, such varied powers of expressing whatever he pleases. He is a fat, sallow squab of a man, but with large, languishing eyes and des traits which justify his thinking himself, as they say he does, something very irresistible. We gave him in return lots of Handel, the Coronation Anthem, etc.