Wednesday, 8 October 1862

Grey ― damp, all day. ― light & dark, at intervals.

A sort of happy sleep ― do you see what I mean? ― a half waking to feel oneself comfortable, & sleep again.

Bother.

Dickenson’s man came & screwed in & down, pictures & boxes. I send the Iánina, 4 Swiss, 1 Corfû, & 2 Italian ˇ[& 1 Greek] pictures ― from the chance of finishing them at Corfû.

A rather absurd process=annual this: ― ἀλλὰ τὶ ἂλλο πρέπει νὰ κὰμωμεν?[1] After 10 or 11 ― I set to work arranging unpenned drawing to take to Κέρκυρα. And later, placed, in Blk-&-White, on the canvass, Grenfell’s Bee;chœ;hed. At 4.30 ― just as I was washing brushes, & preparing to dine ― (for I had resolved to go to Mrs. Woolff’s ―) came Majr. Reynolds & Miss Yates, wh. their visit, albeit they are good people, was not inspiriting. Miss Y.’s pertinacity about that Athos drawing is funny enough. They do not seem a happy couple at all ― though good.

At 5.30. dined. But afterwards I could not make up my mind to go to Mrs. Woolffs. Cold & sleepy & asthmatic ――――――― how ― Πῶς νὰ τὸ κάμω;[2]

So I wrote a noat & scent it.

A rather nice letter from S.W.C. ― to day. And one later from Ellen Newsom.

 


[1] But what else are we to do? (NB)

[2] How could I do it? (NB)


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

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Filed under 1862, Diary Entry

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