The morning of Tuesday welcomed us with two joyful occurrences, the appearance of Tudor and of fine weather. My spirits had in effect begun to be damped by the continuance of this rain. It had now been pouring almost incessantly four days so that the appearance of settled clear weather was quite revivifying. Tudor seemed just the individual I left him, excepting perhaps more extravagant than ever. Indeed I soon found that his spirits always a little more boisterous than I liked were now amounting to rudeness. He seemed to have only come to shake hands and set us off as wild as himself, a plan which as the sequel will prove he was eminently successful in. After a due portion of conversation which consumed the morning, we celebrated the afternoon with Champagne wine, being a part of a bet I long since made and lost on the result of the Presidential election. The afternoon having been thus consumed we found it time to go to the Opera. Cenerentola was performed for the first time and according to all appearances not very well received as Signor Garcia had devolved his part upon a very inferior performer. To me it was new, but I am extremely fond of music and care very little about the performance. The novelty was also agreeable. The Signorina gratified me much, 55her voice is one of uncommon power and tone, and it’s flexibility was put to a very great trial in a most brilliant and delightful Air at the close. She eminently succeeded.1