22 May 1865 – 28 May 1865

Call at Ferguson's — invitation from Petrie. I dine at the Ship Tavern, Abbey St., and go with my cousin David and two young ladies to Quaglieni's Circus, first to promenade then to reserved seats. A handsome circus and good performance. I have the honour of a personal greeting from the Signor and some of the ladies of the company. His son-in- law is clown. David and I drive out to Seafield and have supper.

Move from Clontarf to the Verdon Hotel. Call at Capel St. and see Mr. Dan Brett, his legs swollen, sad, — novel reading his only pleasure. Boys read stories, old people read novels, the first curious about life, the second weary of it. To Miss Allen's, West Row, and am photographed ; Miss A. talkative, tallish, good-looking. Call at Wilde's, and drive with him as far as Hospital, where a patient is waiting for him — 'to have his eyelids chopped oiF.' There is no doubt but surgeons enjoy operating, and were it otherwise what tortures would not surgeons suffer, and would they be able to do the needful work so well ^ N.B. — They are sometimes accused or suspected of doing things which are not needful. Wilde was lately in London ; praised the doctors there for ability — adding, ' but we have plenty of fun and hlagardin among us here ' — are not so stiff and stuck up, he meant. At Verdon Hotel, Catholic Bishop, M'^Gettigan — greets me warmly and asks me to dine with him, which I have to decline. Compliments about Bloomfield (which contains, by the by, a sketch of him). The hotel people are impressed by the Bishop's attentions to me. He is a tall, very comely man, with a pleasant brogue and simple manners — speaks and preaches in Irish ad lib. A good man — if he were only not a Bishop !

Dublin. Started by rail for Enniskillen at half-past eight. In my carriage a man going to Canada ; we talk about Darcy M'Gee, etc. He had only just time to catch the Canadian Steamer in Lough Foyle, but at Dundalk Junction the Derry train went off without him, for which the railway people's stupidity was chiefly blamable. I gave him my card and promised to testify in writing to that effect. To Enniskillen by Steamer down the lake to Belleek, about 25 miles, then by 'Bus to Ballyshannon, and find myself ' at home ' once more — among old faces and places ; my Father appearing tolerably well for him, and cheerful, though now over seventy. He drank my health after dinner. Countless greetings from friends.

Ballyshannon — rainy — my Father poorly. I sit with him and write letters. Little Stewart Johnston, Jane's son. Dr. Sheil, Wm. Lipsett, etc. Walk to the Abbey graveyard — is the ivy which I planted growing ^ My bedroom is out in the yard, a stable-loft adapted, ladder at one end, window, with- out glass, at the other, with rustic back-gardens beneath, and the blue head of Slieve League visible many miles away. A long room, uncarpeted, with slanting roof. I like it : no noises or bothers.