[Manchester—Monday, 5 August 1872].
Monday August 5. We have had storm and rain and cold and J. has passed one day in town but today is sunny and beautiful, a true summer’s day. We drove together directly after our early breakfast finding clematis and afterward picking up a woman who was carrying a sick child in her arms and thought to walk a mile with it, at least, to the house of a friend. Is Judy at home? She inquired anxiously as we put her down. Yes Judy was at home so she got out of the wagon with her suffering burden. The child cried a little as she took him up, whether from bodily pain or because he must leave the wagon I could not tell.
Mr. John Field of Pa. has been visiting Mrs Towne—also a Miss Leas who plays finely. We passed last evening there.
These days are sliding away out of our grasp—in vain we strive to hold them.
Yesterday we read Sterne’s Sermons and Samson Agonistes. The first surprised us by their honest excellence, the latter disappointed us by comparison with Milton’s greater works.
