11 September 1865 – 17 September 1865

Cloudy but warm — Institu- tion— take the chair at ' Penny Reading ' : any use .'' The people prefer rubbish. Linden arcade, brown half-moon low in the east — mind ill at ease. From thirty-five to forty-five 'Tis sometimes hard to keep alive, Hopes are dying — when they're dead, Joys are flying — when they're fled, Perhaps we can be comforted.

Fine, warm, windy. Trip in steamer. On board a blind man singing to a harmonium played by a woman : ' Became blind at fifteen.' ' Those feel it less who are born blind,' I suggested. ' Perhaps,' he answered, ' but I am glad to have seen the world' We ran past the Needles, touched at Bournemouth Pier and took in new passengers, then came the cliffs of Swanage Bay, the Old Harry rock, with tossing and sea-sickness. Landed at Swanage, an out-of-the-world place, houses roofed with large gray stones, narrow crooked street. Many stone-masons here. Beyond, a valley with trees and brook. Lunched at ' The Ship,' kept by Mrs. Diddlecomb, and back to steamer — more tossing and discomfort, of which I had a little. On deck made friends with a quick bright Boy of seven, whose father sat grave and silent reading letters in a female hand. Boy and I talked oceans of nonsense. Passengers got out at Bournemouth and Yarmouth ; then we ran for Lymington by starlight, missed the channel, and stuck in the mud. We had to land by boat, some of the women frightened ; one, a smooth fair woman, ' going to Leicester to-morrow,' threw her arms round me, which was some compensation. The oars sparkled as they dipped. Landed at the Bath, with wet feet ; to Custom-House, and home to dinner.