Saturday, 17 November 1860

All day long unceasing pouring rain: only about 4 it snowed hailed & sleeted. ― My plan of town going being upset by the weather, rose at 7.15 & sent a note to P. Cooper, ― telling him to send letters as usual. ―― Letters from Gussie Bethell, & Mr. Hay’s servant. That poor man goes to Paris today ― but I cannot think he will live! ―

Painted at Philœ ― & later S. Sabbas: & at 4 walked to Library to buy paper. The only way is to work off these incubi. ((Nightmares.)) ― I worry at times at my hearing of George ― but hope he is employed somewhere. ― At times I think of a plan for him to quit my service ― i.e. ― that I should pay him one year’s wages ― & leave him thenceforth to get work in his own country. For he could not come here ― & chance, & my increasing age are against my employing him there. ― thank God, my health now is far better than I ever knew it in November. ― And as for loneliness ― that one must put up with to the end of the chapter: only, it is not right to cause any worry to others. ― A month or 6 weex hence will shew more distinctly what I can, & have to do. Reading back, there has been a deal o’ work done since January 1.

At 6 dined; the tedious Mrs. Jones there: ― & a queer old man. And a Miss Howard, “a hauthoress” says Cockayne[.]

Read Bulwer’s, “what will he do with it?” ――

Penned out Zagóri sketches calmly till 11.

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

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