[Manchester—Friday, 9 August 1867]
Friday August 9th These precious days slip off but with so few incidents and under such enervating skies that I neither think nor feel as it appears sometimes. At such junctures we feel if we could go somewhere or do something else the fountains would be unloosed. No, let us wait—all things come to us.
Lissie Greene came down last night—a tiny woman. She is surprised and so is Lizzie Bartol with my sister Lissie’s speed in achievement of her pictures. She can accomplish a great deal surely.
We went to the cliff in a boat again—the afternoon was exquisite—a rare contrast shifting perpetually between fog and blue serenity.
