Diary by E.B.B.

Distracted (in both senses of the word) by looking for stray books, & packing up a full box of inutilities, to be sent pr. coach to Mr. Eaton. When the letter-time came—no letters came!— Yes! one from Mrs. Boyd, containing a MESSAGE!!! from Mr. Boyd, who likes the talent, & nothing else, of...

Met Billy Trehern in my dressing gown. Had a fright & a run in consequence!—

After breakfast Henrietta came up stairs to propose to me that we should drive to Allen’s the overseer[1] about the Irishwoman. As Bummy wished me to go, I went. At the gate however we found the poor girl better, but indisposed about the overseer; therefore instead of driving to Allen’s, we...

Got up this morning, tired thro’ & thro’. The dreams I had last night about my teeth, were ineffectual in refreshing me altogether. While Stormy & Georgie were reading Greek with me, a cry from Henry called my attention to his figure suspended by the hands from the roof of the dairy. I...

H A & I drove to church, where we heard Mr. Deane preach a sleepy kind of sermon. Mrs. Martin there. She asked me to drive with her to Eastnor[1] on Tuesday, in the case of Mr. Martin not accompanying her, on Monday. I wd. rather have gone to Malvern, but it is right for me, & indeed it will be...

Dearest Arabel’s birthday. She is 18; and an interesting intelligent amiable feeling girl. I should love her even if she were not my sister; & even if she did not love me.

I was up a little after seven this morning. So were the clouds; and to make them more decisive, the rain is down; & there seems no chance of my driving out with Mrs. Martin. Surely a letter, a decisive letter will come today! or else surely Papa will come!— If it does—or if he does—what...

Eliza Cliffe arrived; & brought a note from Eaton in which he agrees to allow £3 for the books exchanged. It is less than their value,—but it is more than their value to me,—they being to me valueless: therefore I will close with him. There is a strong opposition of prudent people against...

Up at a little after seven, & writing to Eaton. I have sent him a list of the books which I wish him to send me immediately. Wrote also a few lines (a very few) to Mr. Boyd, to tell him what he asked me to write about: ie Lady Margaret’s opinion of the House of lords’ intended doings about...

Henrietta à la Henriette about going to call on Mrs. Martin to apologize for not have [sic] noticed her invitation for yesterday evening. Set off at last: and in about ten minutes afterwards, Mr. & Mrs. Martin arrived here. An express sent over the hill for Henrietta, which missed her—but she...

Read Pindar’s 4th. Olympic before breakfast— read & digested it. After breakfast, heard the boys read Homer & Zenophon; and at twelve, drove with Bummy & Arabel to Mrs. Cliffe’s. We rounded it by the Bartons, & called there, & had to wait for Mrs. Griffith’s & Miss Peyton’s out...

Uncomfortable night between the rush light & dark thoughts. This morning I refused to go to church, because, if I went, somebody wd. be obliged either to walk or stay home; neither of which, they might like. I am in a fever about the letters—and the fever must last some time longer, as it is...

Up at six, intending to go at eight.

Went into the Library to try to rationalize my mind about the deathwatch,—by reading the Cyclopœdia. Feel very unwell today, & nervous. Read the mysteries of Udolpho—by way of quieting my imagination? & heard the boys read Homer & Zenophon—& read some of Hugo Victor’s & Lamartine’s...

Much better day,—in spite of the violent rain last night which agitated me teeth and all!— Arabel & I got out of bed & ran to Minny (little dears!) and I was in a thunder-&-lightening fright; & my teeth did what my tongue does sometime—chattered. Dreaming over Udolpho. My impression is...

At breakfast, my parcel of books from Eaton came up the road. Fresh from the carrier. Unpacked it eagerly, & read the title pages of Barnes’s Euripides[,] Marcus Antoninus, Callimachus, the Anthologia, Epictetus[,] Isocrates, & Da Vinci’s Painting.[1] The last I had sent for, for Eliza...

Wrote to Mr. Boyd. Glad of it—for I received afterwards a note from him announcing the arrival of Wolf’s Homer! and desiring me to go for it. He seems disappointed about the paper, & about there being in this edition only 6 books. In the envelope Mrs. Boyd advises me to come soon. If the...

Clouds but no rain. Dreamt last night of all the passengers of a West India vessel,—except two rescued by Bro,—being drowned. I hope that does not indicate a drowning for me in my way to or from Malvern today. Read a little of the Alcestis before I got out of bed,—I think I shall like it.

Not well—& as an ergo, did not go either to church or chapel. Mrs. Cliffe & Eliza came & I displayed my Homer to them,—& settled about Tuesday. They will go, & take me. Not sure that I like it. If I go in Mrs. Cliffe’s carriage, I may not see Mr. Boyd. I must see him, if I go at all!-- No...

Bro went to Worcester, & I entrusted him with a commission, about exchanging Da Vinci for Reynold’s Lectures.[1] He went at 8, with Mr. Martin. At breakfast time we heard a speaking in low voices between Bummy & Lane at the door. Something wrong,—but I wd. not be grave before my time. It wd....

At a quarter to ten, Bummy & I were down at Mrs. Barkers, close to Mrs. Cliffe’s carriage. Eliza & Henrietta & Arabel followed us in the wheelbarrow—& we got to the chapel just in time. Mrs. Boyd took me into her pew. As soon as ever I saw the preacher,[1] I thought he was not eloquent,—as...

How the days of this month are coming to a close,—quickly quickly; & probably much of our happiness with them. Next month—oh!—next month!— My fatigue has not quite gone off,—so I have determined on not going to Mrs. Cliffe’s,—& they have all gone without me. I liked my solitude,...

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I could not write in my diary yesterday. A new sorrow: a letter from Papa to Bummy communicating to us the death of dear Mary, Sam’s beloved wife, whch. took place on the 3d. of last month in Jamaica.[1] Lovely, loving, & beloved she was! She loved me—I am sure she did: and I loved her—how...

Those lines of Lamartine’s may be applied to her—