[Manchester—Thursday, 8 August 1867]
August 8th Fog and great heat. I took a long walk this morning as usual but the fog has attacked me body and soul. I saw a lovely child on the beach searching for dulse—he felt rich with his brown booty and dragged an armful towards home.
The owl looks down upon my writing-table but gives me none of his wisdom.
I have read Balzac’s story “Adieu” today.
