Rose at 6.30, & was away at 7.15. In the night, it had rained & it was sunless, gray, & cold. A long straight street, well paved, is the in & egress of Oneglia. Then follows a suspension bridge over a large Torrent. A road ― ever olive edged ― (& all the world is olives here,) brings one in ½ an hour to near Porto Maurizio, wh. I drew as well as I can ― cold & damp included. The people are vastly civil here always. After a time I prowl to the port, & go up to the town, remembering how well it looked on January 5 last: but now there is no sun ― no light & shade ― & a deal of gloom & traffic. So I go back ― for there is no more to be done, & draw ― between rainy droppings ― at the bridge & on the shore. Then, to the Hotel (Victoria,) where I get some eggs by way of lunch. At 2 we prowl to the pier, & watch the men & women pulling nets ― but there is nothing to draw pictorially; so we go up the opposite hill by the road towards Genoa, & there I draw various times, but of course never well, as there is no sun, & increasing cloud. Then being obliged to sit by the roadside, bothered by mules & cars ― is a Corniche drawback. There is also a permanent flea today, abideth by me. I tire sadly of this Corniche ― the lopsided views & blank gray sea ― & this everlasting smash of Railway cuttings & blowings up & knocking down. At 4.30 it began to rain hard, & we made a run to the Hotel. My how it did rain! But still they say, it is a change-of-moon storm perhaps, & may be fine tomorrow. A Russian family comes to the room next to mine, & makes a horrid row. As for me, I dine at 6 ― very decently, & the charges are moderate here, & now (8 P.M.,) γράφω τοῦτο.
(A queer freak these Corniche indagini.)
 I’m writing this (NB).
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3. Image.]