I was early roused and on my way to the Steamboat—Leaving Baltimore behind me without regret. A city which I never could much admire. We started in the Independence, and were about seven hours in going to Frenchtown. I was fortunate in meeting again with Col. A. P. Hayne who continued his civility to me, and who introduced me to Captain Kearney of the Navy, a discontented officer. There were one or two others who made a party in the railroad car, and the very fluent conversation of the Col. made the hour pass away like nothing. At one we found ourselves at New Castle and before four o’clock I was safely housed at the United States Hotel, a house I do not admire and which I would not go to for any other purpose than as a mere shelter for the night.

After looking over the Newspapers and taking tea, I went out and got myself put in order to attend the Theatre. The piece was that of “the Stranger,” Mrs. Haller by a certain Miss Fanny Jarman who has come here to be a star on the strength of a paragraph from Blackwood in which she was brought in to make the last in a trio of Fannys now on the Stage, Miss Kelly being the first and Miss Kemble the other. She is a tall, full formed woman with a masculine manner, or rather what the French call prononcée, and a “taille si arrondi” that the idea crossed me she must be in a relation somewhat intimate with Mr. Ternan who plays every where in her company. Mr. Sheridan Knowles has since informed me that they are married.1 With these unfavorable prejudices from her first appearance, I was yet quite pleased with her performance. It wanted the power and the pathos of Miss Kemble which drew tears from all eyes not excepting my own. Yet it was not bad, there was no vicious taste, no catches for applause, and the last scene was decidedly moving. Mr. Ternan performed the part of the Stranger, but he was not a fit successor to Charles Kemble. There was a grace, a quiet dignity of offended sensibility about the performance of this part by the latter person, that I do not believe can be surpassed. It was just the height to which this actor can rise. He wants the power of great genius but in the knowledge of true taste he is accurate.

I was in the dress boxes tonight and disappointed that they were not more brilliant. The Theatre is however a poorly constructed one for effect, nor does it seem very well supported. An Afterpiece from the French called the Bold Dragoons of some humour closed the Entertainment.

From my retiring late and the consciousness of an early call, I did not sleep very well. The day was bright and I walked in company with Capt. Kearney down to the Steamboat at the foot of Chesnut Street. I found on board Col. Hayne, who was now accompanied by his wife whom he had left at Philadelphia to establish their only daughter 20at a finishing school, and they were now returning to New York for the purpose of securing a passage tomorrow to Charleston. She was a very lady like woman without airs but with the easy, quiet way of all our Southern women, and from her long travels had picked up materials enough to sustain amusing conversation. There was nothing particularly intellectual about her, but one does not bargain for this in a lady companion in a Steamboat. Our acquaintance the dissatisfied Officer and Mr. J. Sheridan Knowles the actor author who was also with us yesterday but whom I did not get introduced to until Col. Hayne brought him up were all I knew. Mr. Knowles is on the whole the most successful dramatist of the present day, he has some good poetry and plots with no more than the usual degree of improbability in them. The small opportunity I had for conference with him does not entitle me to pronounce upon him, but it certainly did not exalt my notion of him.

We reached Bordenton shortly after ten and Amboy about one, after a ride very uninteresting to me in the Railroad car. Here we took the Swan and hastened into New York. I took leave here of my pleasant companions Mr. and Mrs. Hayne who by their kindness have done much to relieve me of the tedium of the Journey. I hope they will be in Boston when I may have an opportunity of returning the civility.

The day was so fine and our arrival so exactly in time for the President which was blowing off her Steam prior to starting that I could not relish the idea of a twenty four hours delay and therefore crossed directly over, so that fifteen minutes saw me quietly passing over the East River and turning my eyes without regret back upon New York.

The boat was full but I found no acquaintances excepting Mr. and Mrs. Shimmin who were on their way home again after a few days at Washington. I saw just enough of them and no more. They are neither of them interesting but better than nothing. The evening was so beautiful I sat much on deck and the accident that we had some good musicians on board who played charmingly as we floated along by the various light houses contributed to make me in loneliness enjoy a dream of romance.