5 November 1866 – 11 November 1866

Walk — the old pathway to Brocken- hurst Church, through Mr. Morant's park, obstructed by an oak lying across it, so that the rain has formed a small morass. The Squire evidently allows it to lie there for the annoyance of people using the path, which he would fain shut up. What an ugly trick. Hear guns, and see M. in shooting-dress, dark-haired, florid, rather dandified man between thirty and forty, some- thing like an opera Baritone. Daresay he would like to shoot me for being on this path, which has certainly been public since before the Norman Conquest, while his family have only been here two or three generations. The old Doomsday Book Church, with its yew and hollow oak, always a delight to me. There is talk of building, mainly by the Squire's wish, a new one in another place — cutting one more of the threads that join Past with Present. Of what use is John M. in the world } Towards the village he has closed up lately a beautiful bit of shady byroad. On my return find a parcel by rail from Gabriel con- taining the portfolio of photographs from drawings by his poor Wife ; they are naturally full of his influence.^ Also of two very beautiful pencil portraits of her by his hand, one a head, the other full-length. Short, sad and strange her life ; it must have seemed to her like a troubled dream. She was sweet, gentle, and kindly, and sympathetic to art and poetry. As to art-power, it is not easy to make as much as a guess ; and this portfolio hardly helps. But it is very interest- ing, at least to those who knew her. Her pale face, abundant red hair, and long thin limbs were strange and affecting — never beautiful in my eyes. ^ These are now in Mrs. Allingham's possession.

Milder weather, mind dull and muddy. History of Ireland — lawlessness and turbu- lency, robbery and oppression, hatred and revenge, blind selfishness everywhere — no principle, no heroism. What can be done with it '^.