Diary by E.B.B.

I wonder if I shall burn this sheet of paper like most others I have begun in the same way. To write a diary, I have thought of very often at far & near distances of time: but how could I write a diary without throwing upon paper my thoughts, all my thoughts—the thoughts of my heart as well as...

I went to church with Bummy & Arabel in our wheelbarrow;[1] & heard such singing—& such preaching. Alas for my ears & understanding! And alas for Mrs. Peyton’s[2] eyes, which were red in consequence of the sermon. How affected she must have been! There seemed to me to be far more bathos than...

I have heard this morning that Ken[d]rick[1] had another letter from that Reid[2] on Thursday, & that instead of leaving off working on Papa’s ground, he has begun to weed the wheat. No other particulars known yet. Suppose we should go after all:—Oh I will not think of it! Papa’s spirits...

No letters again! It is quite clear that the “something bad” has been the result of Arabel’s letter to Annie. Arabel certainly used one of her own feathers in writing it—one way of calling her a goose!— There will be no letter tomorrow: and I shall dread the interview on Thursday, not...

No letters again. The “something bad” is certain. Arabel wrote to Annie, enclosing a note to Miss Steers from Henrietta. A good pretext for writing! for writing her wonder at the silence, her disappointment at it, & her intention of no more recurring to the subject. This is the best way....

Eliza Cliffe & two ponies arrived immediately after breakfast; & we set off for Malvern at about half past ten: Henrietta & Eliza riding; Bummy Arabel & I in the wheelbarrow. I was nervous about Annie & everybody at Ruby Cottage all the way there. No use in it—“thinks I to myself”. They...

As I heard last night that Bummy had agreed to visit Miss Steers again on Tuesday evening, I saw it was impossible to take the carriage to Malvern on Monday besides. Therefore I wrote four lines in a text hand that Mr. Boyd’s servants might read them to him, saying that I could not be with him...

Sam told me that Hope End is advertised in the Sun newspaper, to be sold in August—no name, but a full description.[1] He & Bro heard it yesterday from Henry Trant![2] I begged him to tell nobody, & to let me tell Bummy. Ran down stairs & found Bummy in the drawing room by herself. Told her....

Went to church in the wheelbarrow with Henrietta,—Henry driving. Heard singing again!!! & a sermon from Mr. Deane[1] about Sisera’s murder.[2] He wrote about it, Goddess & about it,[3]—until I was about going to sleep. If I had done so, I should have awakened just in time to hear what I...

The gnats kept Arabel & me & half the house besides up half the night: witness my swelled finger—witness this eccentric writing.[1] I will gnat sleep in that room again, until the weather changes. I will go into the Bamboo room. No letters on Monday, .. & if it had been Tuesday, I should have...

Henry drove me to Malvern, & Daisy filled as much as he could of the back seat in the wheelbarrow. Papa in bad spirits at breakfast. After breakfast we were about to set off—when in consequence of Papa asking me to wait for something inaudible, I sent Henry in to the library, to ask what I was...

Heard this morning that Papa yesterday discharged his women, & told them that they might work for Ken[d]rick but must not expect him to pay them for it. They are all in the garden with Daly, Jack Cook, & a man employed by Ken[d]rick. I will never go there again; unless we are to stay really. Sam...

Papa was in very good spirits today at breakfast, most undoubtedly. He told Bro to put the clock half an hour more forward;[1] & this sent my hopes forward .. a little way. Would he think about altering the clock, if it were likely to strike so seldom before we are removed for ever from its...

Papa was in very good spirits at breakfast this morning; but when I observed it to Bummy, I was plainly from her manner, that there was no happy cause for them. Hope is all vain!— We shall leave this place!—& all that is dear, in it, & near it!— Where shall we go? To Brighton? To the...

Such a day! such a miserable day!— After breakfast which past as breakfasts usually do, I sate down in my arm chair to put the verbs in μι in me. Then Arabel announced Eliza Cliffe; then I ran down stairs to bring her up stairs; then she began to paint at my picture—& then the door bell...

A far pleasanter day than yesterday. We did not go to church,—because—I dont know what. One could’nt,—& another would’nt, which was as effective. Papa in good spirits. Bummy told us that she had told him about our knowing of his going to London. “And what did they say,” was his...

Papa’s last breakfast with us until his return; therefore a sad one— He however in apparently good spirits; tho’ not very good! After breakfast I began to chew the cud of such bitter thoughts; about Papa’s going away, & about our going away,—that I was glad to begin to graze, instead,...

Two of my wishes were gained: but I must commencer par le commencement. Henry drove me to Malvern; & Daisy & Sette took their inside places with me & a packet of bread & cheese. We set off at about half past ten—arrived at Mrs. Trant’s, where I got out. Talked a little of Papa’s going &...

Very soon after breakfast Eliza Cliffe came; but still sooner Bummy said to me laughingly “Are you going to see Mr. Boyd today?” And laughing was my answer— “Yes! if you will come too.” Then grave was her observation “But you know you can go tomorrow”. “Go tomorrow. Oh I think...

At breakfast this morning, Bummy proposed that I shd. go to see Mr. Boyd in the evening. But I would not do it—Eliza Cliffe was to go!— Henrietta exclaimed “This is the first time I ever heard Ba refuse to go to see Mr. Boyd”. “Ah!” but Bummy responded—“remember the reason!”—...

Gent drove me to Malvern, where we arrived I shd. think very soon after eleven. I was shown into the dining room, & therefore of course took it into my head that Miss Heard[1] was there. Of course consequently out of humour. She was not however there; & I was admitted into the drawing room & Mr....

Bummy said at breakfast, that driving to Malvern always seems to do me good. I hope they will try that panacea upon me again soon—

Dearest Bro’s birthday.[1] Not kept but thought of. As the clouds looked as if they would rain, we would not put ourselves in the way of them by going to church. Bro read prayers. Mr. Watts[2] called at one o’clock, & Eliza rode up to the door at the same moment. Was she to come in or...

After breakfast, I was surprised in my room by Eliza running up stairs & kissing me vehemently, with an exclamation—“The advertisement is withdrawn from the Worcester paper.”[1] Is that all? Her manner had excited me into hope about something. That is nothing. Papa went down to Eastbourne...

Bro rode to Worcester. I wrote a note to Mrs. Boyd.