Mrs. Jameson paid me a long visit; she threatens to write a play;
perhaps she might; she is very clever, has a vast fund of
information, a good deal of experience, and knowledge and
observation of the world and society. She wanted me to have spent
the evening with her on the 23d, Shakespeare's birth and death day,
an anniversary all English people ought to celebrate. Lady Dacre
called, in some tribulation, to say that she had committed herself
about her little piece of "Wednesday Morning," and that Lady
Salisbury, who wants it for Hatfield, does not like its being
brought out on the stage.

Lady Dacre says Lady Salisbury is "afraid of comparisons" (between
herself and me, in the part), _I_ think Lady Salisbury, would not
like "our play" to be made "common and unclean" by vulgar
publicity. In the evening I went to the theater to see a new comedy
by a Spaniard. The house was literally empty, which was encouraging
to all parties. The piece is slightly constructed in point of plot,
but the dialogue is admirably written, and, as the work of a
foreigner, perfectly surprising. I was introduced to Don Telesforo
de Trueba, the author, an ugly little young man, all hair and
glare, whiskers and spectacles; he must be very clever and well
worth knowing, Mr. Harness took tea with us after the play.

[The comedy, in five acts, of "The Exquisites" was a satirical piece
showing up the ridiculous assumption of affected indifference of the
young dandies of the day. The special airs of impertinence by which
certain officers of a "crack" regiment distinguished themselves had
suggested several of the most telling points of the play, which was in
every respect a most remarkable performance for a foreigner.]

_Saturday, April 30th._--Received a letter from John; he has
determined not to leave Spain at present; and were he to return,
what is there for him to do here? In the evening to Mrs. C----'s
ball; it was very gay, but I am afraid I am turning "exquisite,"
for I didn't like the music, and my partners bored me, and the
dancing tired me, and my journal is getting like K----'s head--full
of naked facts, unclothed with a single thought.

_Sunday, May 1st._--As sulky a day as ever _glouted_ in an English
sky. The "young morn" came picking her way from the east, leading
with her a dripp