Monday, 18th.—­ ...  At the theater, in the evening, the house was good, and I played pretty fairly....  At supper my father read us his examination before the committee of the House of Commons about this minor theater business.  Of course, though every word he says upon the subject is gospel truth, it will only pass for the partial testimony of a person deeply interested in his own monopoly.

Thursday, 21st.—­Called on Mrs. Norton, ... and on Lady Dacre, to bid her good-by.  At the theater, in the evening, the house was good, and I played very well.  How sorry I shall be to go away!  The actors, too, all seem so sorry to have us go, and it will be so hard to see none of the accustomed faces, to hear none of the familiar voices, while discharging the tasks that are often so irksome to me.  John Mason came home after the play and supped with us.

Friday, 22d.—­ ...  In the afternoon I called upon the Sotherbys, to bid them good-by; afterward to the Goldsmiths’, on the same cheerless errand.  Stopped at dear Miss Cottin’s to thank her for the beautiful bracelet she had sent me as a farewell present; and then on to Lady Callcott’s, with whom I spent a few solemn moments—­solemnity not without sweetness—­and I scarcely felt sorrowful when she said, “I shall never see you again.”  She is going to what we call heaven, nearer to God (that is, in her own consciousness, nearer to God)....

In the evening to the theater.  I only played pretty well, except the last scene, which was better than the rest.  At the end of the play Mr. Bartley made the audience a speech, mentioning our departure, and bespeaking their good will for the new management.  The audience called for Knowles, and then clamored for us till we were obliged to go out.  They rose to receive us, and waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and shouted farewell to us.  It made my heart ache to leave my kind, good, indulgent audience; my friends, as I feel them to be; my countrymen, my English folk, my “very worthy and approved good masters;” and as I thought of the strangers for whom I am now to work in that distant strange country to which we are going, the tears rushed into my eyes, and I hardly knew what I was doing.  I scarcely think I even made the conventional courtesy of leave-taking to them, but I snatched my little nosegay of flowers from my sash, and threw it into the pit with handfuls of kisses, as a farewell token of my affection and gratitude.  And so my father, who was very much affected, led me off, while the house rang with the cheering of the audience.  When we came off my courage gave way utterly, and I cried most bitterly.  As my father was taking me to my dressing-room Laporte ran after us, to be introduced to me, to whom I wished success very dolorously from the midst of my tears.  He said he ought to cry at our going away more than any one; and perhaps he is right, but we should be better worth his