Friday, 15 January 1864

Cold black gloomy.

An interregnum of intellect & occupation, ― for I really cannot sit long, on account of the cold. However, I certainly worked to some purpose at Damascus, for G. yesterday could make nothing of it: whereas today he said ― Certo Damasco.

So I sit & lunch, by the fireside.

Looking at the papers ― I see the death ― at Knibston Grange ― of poor Alfred Fowler’s widow. ――― What an increasingly painful life ― all sorrow, is that of the Fowlers! ―

A veil of cloud ― snowy ― covers all.

Steamers ― “come & go” ― as little Charley Stanley said many years back.

Hogg & Coddington came: & looked at drawings: after which I drew, or read till dark. ―

Dined solo at 6.30. & ἔπειτα, ― set to work at the usual “penning out,[”] & did 2, [yea], part of a 3rd drawing. Once or twice, went in to see George writing, which he goes on with al solito, ― & so, everything seems to proceed as before the Fathers fell asleep.

At 9.45. Bed. But I have a fire in my bedroom in these horrid cold nights.

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


Leave a comment

Filed under 1864, Diary Entry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s