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When —— was gone, sat down to practise. Tried Mrs. Hemans's Messenger Bird, but the words were too solemn and too sad: I sobbed instead of singing, and was a little relieved. Went in to see Mrs. ——. She seemed better; she was en toilette, in a delicate white wrapper, with her fine hair twisted up round her classical head. She is a beautiful person; she is better—an amiable, a sensible, and a pious one; I am very deeply interested by her; I like her extremely. At half-past one, went to the riding-school. I met there a daughter of old Lady ——'s, who introduced herself to me, and asked leave to stay and see me ride, which leave I gave her. The bay pony is, however, fairly ruined. A little wretch not twelve years old had just been riding it: it had fallen from all its paces, and went so lame that I gave up riding, and sat disconsolately enough in the little dressing-closet, looking through a window six inches square, at the blessed mild blue heavens, and longing for wings, till my soul was like to faint.
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After dinner, wrote journal. Went in and sat with Mrs. ——. By the by, that worthy youth, Mr. ——, dined with us. I got rid of some of my vapours by sundry hearty laughs at him. I am sorry to leave Philadelphia on Mrs. ——'s account. I am growing to her. Oh, Lord! how soon, how soon we do this!—how we do cling to every thing in spite of the pitiless wrenches of time and chance! Her dear babies are delightful to me; their laughing voices have power to excite and make me happy,—and when they come dancing to meet me, my heart warms very fondly towards them.
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She amuses me much by her intense anxiety that I should be married. First, she wishes —— would propose to me; then she thinks Mr. ——'s estates in Cuba would be highly acceptable; in short, my single blessedness seems greatly to annoy her, and I believe she attributes every thing evil in life to that same. She seemed surprised, and a little shocked, when I said I would accept death most thankfully in preference to the happiest lot in life,—and so I would—I would. Yet death——. 'Tis strange, that Messenger Bird threw more than a passing gloom over me. If the dead do indeed behold those whom they have loved, with loving eyes and fond remembrance, do not the sorrows, the weariness, the toiling, the despairing of those dear ones rise even into the abodes of peace, and wring the souls of those who thence look down upon the earth, and see the woe and anguish suffered here? Or, if they do not feel,—if, freed from this mortal coil, they forget all they have suffered, all that we yet endure, oh! then what fourfold trash is human love! what vain and miserable straws are all the deep, the dear, the grasping affections twined in our hearts' fibres,—mingled with our blood! How poor are all things,—how beggarly is life! Oh! to think that while we yet are bowed in agony, and mourning over the dead,—while our bereaved hearts are aching, and our straining eyes looking to that heaven, beyond which we think they yet may hear our cries, they yet may see our anguish, the dead, the loved, the mourned, nor see, nor hear; or if they do, look down with cold and careless gaze upon the love that lifts our very souls in desperate yearning towards them. Yet one of the two must surely be: either the other life is like this, a life of pain, though not like this, perhaps, a life of selfishness; or this earth, and time, and all they hold, are a more hollow mockery than even I sometimes dream they are. I will not think any more of it. We went to the theatre at half-past five. Play, Hunchback; after it, Katharine and Petruchio. I thought I should have died of the side-ach,—I was in perfect agony. The people here are more civil and considerate than can be imagined. I sent, yesterday evening, for some water-ice: the confectioner had none; when, lo! to-night he brings me some he has made on purpose for me, which he entreats my acceptance of. I admired a very pretty fan Mrs. —— had in her hand; and at the end of the play she had it sent to my dressing-room;—and these sort of things are done by me, not once, but ten times every day. Nothing can exceed the kindness and attention which has encountered us every where since we have been in this country. I am sure I am bound to remember America and Americans thankfully; for, whatever I may think of their ways, manners, or peculiarities, to me they have shown unmingled good will, and cordial real kindness. Remained up, packing, till two o'clock.
TO —— ——.