benefit, rather dismayed us.  So after breakfast this morning, having put out my dresses for my favorite Portia for to-night, I went to the theater to ascertain if there was to be a rehearsal or not.  My father had gone in search of Mr. Brunton to see how matters could be arranged, and at all events to represent that we could not go on acting unless our money was secured to us.  Charles Mason, Dall, and I in the mean time found the poor actors in the theater very much at a loss how to proceed, as it seemed extremely doubtful whether there would be any performance; so we returned home, where we found my father, who said that at all events there must be a rehearsal, for it was absolutely necessary if we did act to-night, and could do us no harm if we did not; so we repaired again to the theater, where the scattered and scared corps dramatique having been got together again, we proceeded to business.

Wednesday, 13th.—­Mr. K——­ called and told us that some arrangement had been made with the truculent creditor of our poor manager by which we shall not lose any more in this unlucky business.  My father will be quit for about a hundred pounds.  I am very sorry for Mr. Brunton, but he should not have placed us in such an uncomfortable position.  My father has offered to act one night beyond our engagement for the sake, if possible, of making up to the actors the arrears of salary Mr. Brunton owes them.  They are all poor, hard-working people, earning no more than the means of subsistence, and this withholding of their due falls very heavily on them.

Thursday, 14th.—­ ...  At the theater the house was very good, and the audience very pleasant.  The play was “The Provoked Husband,” and I’m sure I play his provoking wife badly enough to provoke anybody; but she’s not a person to my mind, which is an artistic view of the case.

[My modes of dealing with my professional duties at this very unripe stage of my career irresistibly remind me of a not very highly educated female painter who had taken it into her head to make an historical picture of Cleopatra.  Sending to a friend for a few “references” upon the subject of that imperial gypsy’s character and career, she sent them hastily back, saying she had relinquished her purpose, “having really no idea Cleopatra was that sort of person.”]

Friday, July 15th.—­Miserrima!  I have broken a looking-glass! and on Friday, too!  What do I think will happen to me!  Had a long talk this morning with dear Dall about my dislike to the stage.  I do not think it is the acting itself that is so disagreeable to me, but the public personal exhibition, the violence done (as it seems to me) to womanly dignity and decorum in thus becoming the gaze of every eye and theme of every tongue.  If my audience was reduced to my intimates and associates I should not mind it so much, I think; but I am not quite sure that I should like it then.