May 11th, 1838.
At Boston last week. Items: -- A young man, with a small moustache, dyed brown, reddish from its original light colour. He walks with an affected gait, his arms crooked outwards, treading much on his toes. His conversation is about the theatre, where he has a season ticket, -- about an amateur who lately appeared there, and about actresses, with other theatrical scandal. -- In the smoking-room, two checker and backgammon boards; the landlord a great player, seemingly a stupid man, but with considerable shrewdness and knowledge of the world-- F---- , the comedian, a stout heavylooking Englishman, of grave deportment, with no signs of wit or humour, yet aiming at both in conversation, in order to support his character. Very steady and regular in his life, and parsimonious in his disposition, -- worth $ 50,000, made by his profession. -- A clergyman, elderly, with a white neckcloth, very unbecoming, an unworldly manner, unacquaintance with the customs of the house, and learning them in a childlike way. A ruffle to his shirt, crimped. -- A gentleman, young, handsome, and sea-flushed, belonging to Oswego, New York, but just arrived in port from the Mediterranean : he inquires of me about the troubles in Canada, which were first beginning to make a noise when he left the country, -- whether they are all over. I tell him all is finished, except the hanging of the prisoners. Then we talk over the matter, and I tell him the fates of the principal men, -- some banished to New South Wales, one hanged, others in prison, others, conspicuous at first, now almost forgotten. -- Apartments of private families in the hotel, what sort of domesticity there may be in them; eating in public, with no board of their own. The gas that lights the rest of the house lights them also, in the chandelier from the ceiling. -- A shabby-looking man, quiet, with spectacles, at first wearing an old, coarse brown frock, then appearing in a suit of elderly black, saying nothing unless spoken to, but talking intelligently when addressed. He is an editor, and I suppose printer, of a country paper. Among the guests, he holds intercourse with gentlemen of much more respectable appearance than himself, from the same part of the country. -- Bill of fare: wines printed on the back, but nobody calls for a bottle. Chairs turned down for expected guests. Threepronged steel forks. Cold supper from nine to eleven P.M. Great round mahogany table, in the sitting-room, covered with papers. In the morning, before and soon after breakfast, gentlemen reading the morning papers, while others wait for their chance, or try to pick out something from the papers of yesterday or longer ago. In the forenoon the Southern papers are brought in, and thrown damp and folded on the table. The eagerness with which those who happen to be in the room start up and make prize of them. Play-bills, printed on yellow paper, laid upon the table. Towards evening comes the Transcript.
At Boston last week. Items: -- A young man, with a small moustache, dyed brown, reddish from its original light colour. He walks with an affected gait, his arms crooked outwards, treading much on his toes. His conversation is about the theatre, where he has a season ticket, -- about an amateur who lately appeared there, and about actresses, with other theatrical scandal. -- In the smoking-room, two checker and backgammon boards; the landlord a great player, seemingly a stupid man, but with considerable shrewdness and knowledge of the world-- F---- , the comedian, a stout heavylooking Englishman, of grave deportment, with no signs of wit or humour, yet aiming at both in conversation, in order to support his character. Very steady and regular in his life, and parsimonious in his disposition, -- worth $ 50,000, made by his profession. -- A clergyman, elderly, with a white neckcloth, very unbecoming, an unworldly manner, unacquaintance with the customs of the house, and learning them in a childlike way. A ruffle to his shirt, crimped. -- A gentleman, young, handsome, and sea-flushed, belonging to Oswego, New York, but just arrived in port from the Mediterranean : he inquires of me about the troubles in Canada, which were first beginning to make a noise when he left the country, -- whether they are all over. I tell him all is finished, except the hanging of the prisoners. Then we talk over the matter, and I tell him the fates of the principal men, -- some banished to New South Wales, one hanged, others in prison, others, conspicuous at first, now almost forgotten. -- Apartments of private families in the hotel, what sort of domesticity there may be in them; eating in public, with no board of their own. The gas that lights the rest of the house lights them also, in the chandelier from the ceiling. -- A shabby-looking man, quiet, with spectacles, at first wearing an old, coarse brown frock, then appearing in a suit of elderly black, saying nothing unless spoken to, but talking intelligently when addressed. He is an editor, and I suppose printer, of a country paper. Among the guests, he holds intercourse with gentlemen of much more respectable appearance than himself, from the same part of the country. -- Bill of fare: wines printed on the back, but nobody calls for a bottle. Chairs turned down for expected guests. Threepronged steel forks. Cold supper from nine to eleven P.M. Great round mahogany table, in the sitting-room, covered with papers. In the morning, before and soon after breakfast, gentlemen reading the morning papers, while others wait for their chance, or try to pick out something from the papers of yesterday or longer ago. In the forenoon the Southern papers are brought in, and thrown damp and folded on the table. The eagerness with which those who happen to be in the room start up and make prize of them. Play-bills, printed on yellow paper, laid upon the table. Towards evening comes the Transcript.
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