* * * * * * * * * * _Tuesday, 6th._ It poured with rain. Lucky we did not follow ----'s advice, else we should have been miserably progressing through rain and wretchedness, or perhaps sticking fast in the mud. Went and took a warm bath; came home, breakfasted; after breakfast, practised for an hour; finished letter to ----; wrote to my mother; dined at five. After dinner, Colonel ---- called, and very nearly caused a blow-up between me and my father: he came preaching to me the necessity of restoring those lines of Bianca's, in the judgment-scene, which were originally omitted, afterwards restored by me at Milman's request, and again cut out, on finding that they only lengthened the scene, without producing the slightest effect. My father appeared perfectly to agree with me, but added, that I might as well oblige the people. I straightforth said I would do no such thing. People sitting before the curtain must not come and tell me what I am to do behind it. Not one out of a hundred, in the first place, understand what they are talking about; and why, therefore, am I to alter my work at their suggestion, when each particular scene has cost me more consideration than they ever bestowed upon any whole play in all their lives. Besides, it would be with me and my parts as with the old man, his son, and his ass, in the fable of old; I should never have done altering, and yet never satisfy any body; for the most universal talent I know of is that of finding fault. So, all things well considered, the New Yorkians must e'en be contented with the judgment of Miss O'Neill, my father, and their obedient humble servant. Worked till tea-time; after tea, wrote letters till now, bed-time. _Wednesday, 7th._ Our breakfast was so bad, none of us could eat any thing. After breakfast, despatched letters to Mr. ----, for England. Practised for an hour,--sketched for an hour. * * * * * * * * * * At half-past one, went out with my father to walk on the Battery, while Colonel ---- and D---- went to ----, to see if we could get decent lodgings, and wholesome eatables there. The day was melancholy, grey, cold; with a full fresh wind, whirling the rattling leaves along, and rippling the leaden waters of the wide estuary that opens before this beautiful parade. The Jersey shore and Staten Island, with their withered woods all clothed in their dark warm autumnal hues, at a distance reminded me of the heathery hills of Scotland; they had that dark purple richness of colouring. * * * * * * * * * *