my legs till five o'clock. Dined at table d'hote, and afterwards heard part of “La Dame Blanche.” Weary enough now, and astonished that I am able to endure the fatigue. the sea air, or sea sickness, or absolute separation from politics at home, or all combined have given me much of my old strength. March, Sunday. Stayed in Rouen another day, partly for rest, and partly to enjoy still more the old town; heard mass and vespers in the venerable cathedral; for several hours drove in an open carriage in the environs, and passed a couple of hours at the opera in the evening. March 23. Left Rouen this morning at half-past 9 o'clock. The day was fine for March. Much struck by the whole management of the railroad, particularly when the train stopped for refreshments. Civilization seemed to abound. On arriving at Paris,. . . drove to the Hotel Westminster; then sallied forth, and was astonished at the magnificence which I saw, beyond all my expectations. First of all, tried to find my old French teacher, M. Debidas,1 52 Rue St. Dominique. On applying there, the concierge, who had been there twelve years, told me that he had never heard of him; he is perhaps dead. Next called at two different hotels to inquire for Crawford, but could hear nothing of him. Enjoyed part of the Rivoli, the Palais Royal, and the Boulevards, and then two hours at the French opera,— William tell; home, weary, very weary. March 24. Called on T. G. Appleton, who took me to drive through the new Rivoli and the Boulevards. The improvements are prodigious. Dined with him at his rooms, and then went with him to the Opesra Comique, where I enjoyed very much a new piece,— “Psyche.” March 25. Moved to the Hotel de la Paix, at the corner of Rue de la Paix and the Boulevards, where I have a beautiful apartment from which I can see all the movement of Paris. At last found where Crawford lodged, but could not see him. His wife told me of his condition, which is sad. I went away sorrowful; walked in the garden of the Tuileries; dined at Trois Freres, Palais Royal, and then played the flaneur, looking into shop windows as I walked along. March 26. Wrote letters home; visited the Invalides, and saw the new tomb of Napoleon; then visited Mr. William B. Greene and his most intelligent wife, living off beyond the Luxembourg; saw something of that quarter; then dined with Elliot C. Cowdin, a merchant here, once connected with the mercantile Library Association [of Boston],—the first time I have met company at dinner for ten months; then to the Italian opera, where I heard the last part of “II Barbiere di Siviglia. ” March 27. Enjoyed a drive with Mr.Waterston and Mrs. R. C. Waterston, who took me to various places, among others Notre Dame and St. Étienne du Mont, and afterwards for hours in the Bois de Boulogne, which was new to me, and as beautiful as new. Dined with Appleton, and then with him and Miss Hensler2 (our Boston singer), to the Opera Lyrique, where I heard “Oberon.” March 28. Plunged into the abyss of the Louvre galleries; dined with Mr. Edward Brooks, and then tired myself at the Concert Musard.
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