The same perfect weather. Hardly a cloud over all the sky: every crag & wrinkle of Salvador ― every gull & goose ― every sail & boat, reflected clean & calm in the bright sea from 7.30 to 6. P.M. It is not possible to imagine greater beauty of nature.
A contrast to this is the utter weariness of employ ― these 60 drawings! Shall I, or shall I not be able to go through them? ―
Anyhow, I worked at Nos. 11 & 12 of the smaller 30 tyrants ― & also 13, but the prospect of not completing them by February is really dispiriting.
Never say ‘die.’
Worked till 5. Walked up & down my room till 5.20. Then Greek till 7. when G.H. Bolland came ― & dined with me. George had made some excellent soup ― a mayonése ― & roas beef &c. ― & as he always does ― contrived to make the dinner comfortable.
Played & sang a werry little ― & sate down to pen out Leufchino drawings. (I penned out till 12.30.)
Bolland meanwhile looked at drawings & photographs.
A good slow kind of youth: good preponderating.
Another awful suicide took place here last night. G. told me there had been something horrid ― but as he never knows anything & never asks he knew nothing. It was Mrs. Powell ― a lady living at the Europa with her husband ((?))― who, ― ill of disease of the heart & great torture ― first ― (during Mr. P.’s absence on a ride ―) shot herself ― but not mortally ― & then hung herself! ―
Would these drawings were done! ― but, thank God, I am in better health than formerly.
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3. Image.]