ansbury, with a fiddle in his hand,
dancing, singing, prompting, and swearing; the whole _corps de
ballet_ attitudinizing in muddy shoes and poke-bonnets, and the
columbine, in dirty stockings and a mob-cap, ogling the harlequin
in a striped shirt and dusty trousers. What a wrong side to the
show the audience will see!

My father is better, thank God! After dinner sat with poor Henry
till time to go to the theater. Played Isabella. House bad. I
played well; I always do to an empty house (this was my invariable
experience both in my acting and reading performances, and I came
to the conclusion that as my spirits were not affected by a small
audience, they, on the contrary, were exhilarated by the effect
upon my lungs and voice of a comparatively cool and free
atmosphere). I read Daru between my scenes; I find it immensely
interesting.... I read Niccolini's "Giovanni di Procida," but did
not like it very much; I thought it dull and heavy, and not up to
the mark of such a very fine subject.

_Saturday, 17th._-- ... My father, thank God, appears much
better.... I have christened the pretty mare I have bought "Donna
Sol," in honor of my part in "Hernani." In the evening I read Daru,
and wrote a few lines of "The Star of Seville;" but I hate it, and
the whole thing is as dead as ditch-water.

_Sunday, 18th._--To church.... After I came home I went and sat
with my father. Poor fellow! he is really better; I thank God
inexpressibly!

GREAT RUSSELL STREET, December 18.
DEAR H----,

I have had time to write neither long nor short letters for the
last week; Mr. Young's engagement being at an end, I have been
called back to my work, and have had to rehearse, and to act, and
to be much too busy to write to you until to-day, when I have
caught up all my arrears.

My father, thank God, is once more recovering, but we have twice
been alarmed at such sudden relapses that we hardly dare venture to
hope he is really convalescent. Inflammation on the lungs has, it
seems, been going on for a considerable time, and though they think
now that it has entirely subsided, yet, as the least exertion or
exposure may bring it on again, we are watching him like the apples
of our eyes. He has not yet left his bed, to which he