Quite fine & mild ― lovely ― bright.
Thackeray is dead: ― he died yesterday.
Many letters: & wrote many: up till 12.30 ― resolving to go to Lewes & pass my Xmas with the Hunts. Packed, & left at 1 ― going first to Marlboro’ House. Thence to Victoria Station ― supposing the usual train to run at 2. ― but there was none, ― & the guard was angry, saying ― “Any Xtian all over the world might know Xmas day is like Sunday.” Evidently many others besides myself didn’t. Drove thereon to Waterloo Station, & came to Barnes. Walking to Clarence, where the most amiable=hospitable Prescotts ― tho’ I had previously declined coming ― received me with the usual welcome. Not withstanding I was alquanto cross I fear. We talked till 5.30[.] Dinner at 6
Grew alquanto happier: & after dinner played & sang, tho’ badly.
Bed at 10.45.
Wonderfully kind people.
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3. Image.]