Rose at nine. After breakfast, read a canto in Dante; wrote journal; practised for an hour. The Boston manager, it seems, does not approve of our terms; and after bargaining till past two o'clock last night with my father, the latter, wearied out with his illiberal trafficking, and coarse vulgarity of manner, declined the thing altogether: so, unless the gentleman thinks better of the matter, we shall not go to Boston this winter.[42] At one o'clock, habited; and at two, rode out with my father. The day was most enchanting, mild, bright, and sunny; but the roads were deplorable, and the country utterly dull. My horse was a hard-mouthed half broken beast, without pace of any christian kind soever; a perfect rack on hoofs: how it did jog and jumble me! However, my bones are young, and my courage good, and I don't mind a little hard work; but the road was so villanously bad, and the surrounding country so weary, dull, stale, and unprofitable, that I was heartily sick of my ride, when we turned towards Fairmount, the site of some large water-works on the Schuylkill, by which Philadelphia is supplied with water. On our right I descried, over some heights, a castellated building of some extent, whose formidable appearance at least bespoke an arsenal; but it was the entrance to the Penitentiary instead: and presently the river, bright, and broad, and placid as a lake, with its beautiful banks, and rainbow-tinted woods, opened upon us. We crossed a covered wooden bridge, and followed the water's edge. The rich colours of the foliage cast a warm light over the transparent face of the mirror-like stream; and, far along the winding shores, a mingled mantle of gorgeous glowing tints lay over the woody banks, and was reflected in the still sunny river. Indeed, it was lovely! But our time was growing short, and we had to turn home; which we did by a pleasant and more direct path. My horse, towards the end of the ride, got more manageable; and I doubt whether it would not be wiser to continue to ride it than try another, which may be just as bad, and, moreover, a stranger. My riding-cap seemed to excite universal marvel wherever we passed. We came in at five o'clock; dressed, and dined. Just as I had finished dinner, a most beautiful, fragrant, and delicious nosegay was brought to me, with a very laconic note from a Philadelphia "friend," dashed under, as though from a Quaker. Whoever 'tis from, Jew or Gentile, Puritan or Pagan, he, she, or it hath my most unbounded gratitude. Spent an ecstatic half hour in arranging my flowers in glasses; gave orders about my Mrs. Beverley's gown, and began marking journal; while doing so, a card was brought up.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Presently Mr. —— came in, another of our Pacific fellow-sailors. It pleases me to see them: they seem to bring me nearer to England. He gave a dreadful account of his arrival in Baltimore, and of the state to which the cholera had reduced that city. Mr. —— amused me, by telling me that he had heard my behaviour canvassed with much censure by some man or other, who met me at Mr. ——'s, and who was horrified at my taking up a book, and then a newspaper, and, in short, being neither tragical nor comical, at a dinner-party. Of course, I must seem a very strange animal to them all; but they seem just as strange to me.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Wednesday, 17th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, put out things for the theatre. At eleven, went to rehearsal. It seems there has been fighting, and rushing, and tearing of coats at the box-office; and one man has made forty dollars by purchasing and reselling tickets at an increased price. After rehearsal, came home. Mr. —— called, and sat some time: he sails for England on the twenty-fourth. England, oh England!—yet, after all, what is there in that name? It is not my home; it is not those beloved ones' whose fellowship is half the time what we call home. Is it really and truly the yearning of the roots for the soil in which they grew? Perhaps it is only the restless roving spirit, that still would be where it is not. I know not. His description of American life and manners (and he knows both, for he has lived constantly in this country, and his particularities are, I believe, fairly divided between it and his own,) is any thing but agreeable.
* * * * *