Tuesday. August 2d.
A note from Mrs. Martin. No Orlando—but a present in preparation for me. She has got another copy of Moore’s Life of Ld. Byron,[1]—& therefore when the other is “in a presentable state” I am to be presented with it. Very kind of her. A large packet from London of bombazeens silks &c—& a catalogue inside, in Papa’s writing. Surely if he were coming immediately he wd. not write—but Bummy & Minny dont say “surely”. They have some certain knowledge I feel certain, of something unpleasant.
The boys, save Stormy, & the girls, save nobody, to Colwal this eveng. to play cricket & drink tea. I wish a little shyness & obstinacy cd. have kept me at home with the only saved person. Bummy in low spirits—nay, H & A apart,—with tears in her eyes, all the evening. Something wrong.
Mr. Martin showed us his drawings & read us some of his journal in & out of Africa,—so that we were amused. How very very odd it is, that Mrs. Martin, who, I think, likes me, & I, who, I am sure, like Mrs. Martin, should be oil and water together. Some want of conformity & sympathy, I suppose! Got home late—at past 11.
I read half the 6th book of Antoninus today—so I cant say, after all, perdidi diem.[2]
1. Thomas Moore, Letters and Journals of Lord Byron: with Notices of his Life, 2 vols. (London, 1830).
2. The Roman Emperor Flavius Sabinus Vespasianus Titus, having let a day pass without bestowing a present, exclaimed, “I have lost a day.”
