_January 26._--London last night when I arrived might have been
Winchelsea when the sun goes down on all our wrath and arguments.
No one in the streets ... empty buses crawling along. Black boards
up at every shop window. All the gas half-mast high as well as the
flags. I never saw such a mournful city, but why should they turn
the gas down? Thrift, thrift, Horatio!
_February 2._--The Queen's Funeral. From a balcony in S. James's I
saw the most wonderful sight I have ever seen. The silence was
extraordinary.... The tiny coffin on the gun-carriage drawn by the
cream-colored ponies was the most pathetic, impressive object in
all that great procession. All the grandest carriages were out for
the occasion. The King and the German Emperor rode side by side....
The young Duke of Coburg, the Duchess of Albany's son, like Sir
Galahad. I slept at Bridgewater House, but on my way to St. James's
from there my clothes were torn and I was half squeezed to death.
One man called out to me: "Ah, now you know what it feels like at
the pit door, Miss Terry."
_April 15._--Lyceum. "Coriolanus" produced. Went home directly
after the play was over.
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