Very dark, cold, & foggy. Ill ― & could not go out all day[.]
One payment. Wrote several letters: & arranged drawings ― papered them up &c. &c.
Lunched at 1 ― intending to try to go out ― but could not.
Lo! just as I was going to send Mrs. Willis’s book back, she called: & sent up “could I come down?” ― to which I responded No. But I let her have her book ― as it ain’t tanto to quarrel.
Dined at home: reading Speke, ― wh. I don’t much delight in: dry ― & not always pleasant ― even apart from Drouth. ―
The year is dying. Let him die.
Old year! You shall not die!
You’ve lived with us so merrily!
Hum. Not so very merrily: but on the whole ― very happily.
 So much (value?).
 Tennyson, “The Death of the Old Year,” whose first stanza, however, reads:
Old year, you must not die:
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3. Image.]