My dear Mother,—Although I did not go to the Abbey I could not find time to write to you yesterday, as I was persuaded to remain at Miss Burdett Coutts in Stratton Street to see the procession return from the Abbey, which I did in the hope of liking it better than I had done in going there; but I confess that taken altogether I was extremely disappointed, though I can scarcely say why. John Strangways says it is because the squadrons of Life Guards were so small, and that what makes the processions on the Continent so splendid are the thousands of troops who always take part in them. Then the line, at least in Piccadilly, being kept by Policemen and Rifles (whose dark uniform made them scarcely distinguishable from the crowd), took off from the gaiety extremely. The carriages too followed each other so excessively closely that they were in great danger of poling their neighbour’s chasseurs, and one could scarcely tell which was which, or rather which was who, or have time to look at them before they were gone, for though their order was set down in a book (which I have kept), yet it did not specify how many carriages each would have, and the liveries were so fanciful and such a mass of gold, that one’s wits did not help one at all. 

[…] There was not nearly music enough, as from the great length of the procession a band was required much oftener, and there were only three, and also some sort of Javelin men to have walked in threes or fours between each carriage to have made a division.