Thursday, 18 September 1862

Very lovely Autumn day. Rose before  6 ― & walked from 7 to 8.15[.]

Breakfast at 8.20. & wished the kind Sir F. & Miss Baring, & T.G.B. ― good-bye. Came to Micheldever at 9.15. Rail to Havant ― nearly missing train ― & to Arundel by 1. ― Omnibus to the town, all of which seemed queer enough to me ― & at times I could hardly help laughing. Went to Norfolk rooms, & had lunch with a “traveller.” At 2. ― fly to Burton. The old lanes! & Moreover we drove thro’ the past. ― Horn tower ― & all these beautiful views! ― “Lots of half bred Cathylix. [Leadri?]” said driver. ― Lost our way & went to Begnor Park ― but by 4 reached Burton Park ― by lanes long ago ridden through by me & ―――. What of that?

Met Mrs. Fairbairn & the children. Room not very nice ― ἀλλὰ[1] ― we adapt ourselves. Wrote this.

So, from 4.30. to 6. I [moved] about, portions of the Park are pretty ― yet it seems to me, considering the beauty of the downs &c. ― very little has been done to aid nature. At 6.15 ― sate a bit with little Reginald & Florence ― & saw all the others, ― a brother ― George Fairbairn ― among the rest. (Said brother is in next room to me ― & whistles awful. “When the pie was opened, the bird began to sing” ― I thought.[)] The [] & [][2] ― seemed dull ― & doubtless they ought at once  to commence a real typical life. After the Woolly, Escrick, Norman Court, & Stratten [dip] ― yea, & the “Gate Burton” ― we seem at sea. ―

So the dinner passed. ― After wh. the room being cold ― & no attempt made at repose ― they would have billiards, I confess ― a bore. And it was only that Miss Hartley conversed with me about the children ― that I could tolerate that “phase.”

And, ― quante cose di rammentarmi![3] Ὀ νοῦς δὲ τοῦ φίλου μου, Φᾶιρβαιρν ― εἶναι καλός; ― ἷσως ― ὂχι.[4]

So we slept ― at 11.


[1] But.

[2] The two words I cannot read probably refer to the deaf and dumb children mentioned in the following days’ entries.

[3] Lear presumably intended: “And how many memories!”

[4] And the mind of my friend Fairbairn ― is sound? ― maybe ― not (NB).

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

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Filed under 1862, Diary Entry

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