Boardman left us on Wednesday morning. He had been waiting for the Havre Packet which was to bring back his father, but his finances had become so slender after a long and expensive stay that he was obliged to return before it came in. It only brought the news of his death and so I was glad that it’s arrival was delayed untill after we had separated. At school in Boston six years ago, he was reckoned one of the greatest dunces there, but he is not the only instance which I have seen of the great difference which exists between the same persons as boys and as men in the world. He now seems a gentlemanly, agreeable companion. As such I have been glad to renew my old acquaintance with him, and to be pleased at having destroyed in a considerable manner prejudices which were existing in the minds of both. I felt better today, but Tudor was at last completely prostrated. It appeared that I had escaped luckily last evening as my party had been in a most outrageous scrape. They were enjoying the consequences this morning. We all went to take the usual Luncheon of Turtle however, and it seemed to revive Tudor’s drooping spirits. But the morning was spent in comparative quiet. The afternoon was employed in drinking Burgundy. We then went to the Park Theatre and saw Hilson in the amusing character of Paul Pry and enjoyed a very hearty laugh.1
The evening was passed soberly
even by Tudor. And this is saying much. For such a thing in some shape or other as excitement has been the constant food of some one or other of us during our whole stay. After some conversation of a serious and friendly nature we all retired.