Fine ― dry.

Slept ill, rose at 9.

Did “nothing” all day, but set my palette. Dreary blank hours. Played ― wrote ― slept ― fretted: ― stomach ache & belly ache.

Dined on 1 chop at 2. ― No one came, at least, it is now 3.30. In wandering about these 2 rooms, I mind me of so many days similarly passed in 1850 ― 2 doors off: ― not to speak of the Nile, Corfû &c. Certes, my faculty for doing absolute=nothing when at all in suspense, is remarkable.

And now I do not think I shall go either to C.F.’s ― or to Lady G. Greys ― or to Millais; so unhinged & weary is this child.

At 5.30 came Edwd. (Major) Williams ― much aged & seccato.1 ― Then S.W. Clowes, who persuaded me to dine  with him at the Blue Posts.

So I sent off 2 drawings & 2 birds (Parrots,) to Fairbairn, & 1 ditto & 2 ditto to T.G. Baring: then cab to B. Posts.

Dinner with S.W.C. pleasant, & went to tea with him afterwards.

Found letter from T. Fairbairn.

What a weary weary day!!

[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3.]

  1. “Annoyed,” but the word in Italian also means “dried.” [↩]