[Manchester—Saturday, 19 July 1873]

July 18 [sic]. Rain rain rain and a roaring sea. Jamie writes his lecture on fiction. I have Plato on hand just now. We are quiet and alone here, but everyday in the country brings its own variety of earth and sea, of flowers and of fruit.

Called at J.B. Booth’s; found him reading a new french Comédie on the piazza; he said “she” was brushing her hair or nursing the baby he didn’t know which, but she would be down soon whichever it was! Queer people these actor people—the little lady said when (she came) that she hoped to keep house in New York this winter because there were ten persons in their family, and she also hoped to act a great deal more than she had done. I thought this, as Dickens says, was “a good stiff piece of work which she had cut out” for herself—3 babies, housekeeping, and a nightly performance!! I find the actors much more cultivated and intelligent as a class than the average of work-a-day men & women, much more interesting.


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