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[132] the Latin language into the modem language of the South of Europe. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, a young man who has a thorough knowledge of French literature, with much taste and talent, reads with me and to me, that I may get French pronunciation and the spirit of the French authors, which I certainly could not get so well or so quickly in any other way,—probably not at all. At five o'clock I dine in my own room, which saves me the trouble and time of dining, as most strangers do, at a public eating-house.

Thus you see, that from six in the morning until five in the afternoon I am every moment employed; but from five, I consider myself free. About six o'clock, I generally go over the river, and pass an hour with Thorndike, who is still sick; and then go either to see some French acquaintance, or to the theatre, or else come home and amuse myself with whatever most interests me.

Miss Helen Maria Williams and M. Pichon, formerly French Resident in the United States in the time of the Republic, since Jerome's Minister of Finance, and now a member of the King's Council, receive each one evening in the week; and at Mad. de Stael's, or rather her daughter the Duchess de Broglie's,—for her mother is ill, so that I have not seen her,—there is a coterie every evening. Good literary society is found at all, and at the Duchess de Broglie's the best in Paris. I have a general privilege at each of them; and, besides, know many other persons, whom I can visit when I choose, so that I do not get an opportunity to go to the theatre as often as I could wish for the sake of the language and pronunciation. At eleven o'clock, extraordinaries excepted, I am at home and in bed. . . . .


Journal.

Paris, May 11, 1817.—At last I have seen Mad. de Stael. Ever since I presented my letters, she has been so ill that her physicians refused her permission to see above three or four persons a day, and those such of her most familiar friends as would amuse without exciting her. Yesterday, however, her son called on me, and told me if I would come and dine with them to-day alone, his mother would see me, whether her physician gave her leave or not. I went, therefore, early, and was immediately carried to her room. She was in bed, pale, feeble, and evidently depressed in spirits; and the mere stretching out her hand to me, or rather making a slight movement, as if she desired to do it, cost an effort it was painful to witness.

Observing, with that intuition for which she has been always so


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