The prorogation was very fine. Beyond my expectations, though the House of Lords is a shabby poky little place enough, compared to the old burnt down one. The day was glorious, till after all was over, when we had a deluge. The finest moment I thought was while the Queen, dressed in crimson velvet and ermine, advanced through the entrances and passages, at a slow pace, alone, preceded and followed by all the Court and Ministers. Lord Melbourne (who begins to look picturesquely old) with the Sword of State. The Blues and Beefeaters and all the splendour of her entourage lining her path, and loads of full-dressed people looking down from every place where they could stick themselves. All this in the light of a dazzling sunshine, and to the sound of a great number of most royal trumpets, in unison, quite close to us, and a fine bass accompaniment of cannon outside. The trumpets were, I thought, quite sublime.