3 February 1868 – 9 February 1868

To London — very fine day. Mr. Burnett at Custom-House ; away 1.45. Clapham Junction ; lovely evening, moon, Jupiter and Venus. Lavender Sweep — friendly welcome as ever. Talk with Tom Taylor. A Comedy in hand, For Love or Money ; Mrs. T. writing it from Tom's dictation ; they do some this evening.

Lavender Sweep, called at 7.30 ; WyclifFe, Lucy — Breakfast. In with T. T. to Victoria. National Gallery, Egyptian Hall, Dudley Gallery. Bond St., Mrs. Cameron's Exhibition of Photographs, in charge of a pretty Brunette (Miss Kate Shepherd) with sweet smile. Lavender Sweep — dinner. Evening, T. T. dictating comedy, Mrs. T. writing, I suggesting sometimes. Sleepy, yet awake in the night. JVednesday, February 5. — Fine but windy. Walk through old Wandsworth, like a country town, to Putney, where are some large Georgian houses. Call on Arthur Hughes, whose house faces the river, most friendly. Arty, a pretty boy, little boy, girl. Studio, pleasant chat ; yard, children feeding two tame deer. A. H. walks with me to near Clapham. T. T.'s, dress to dine at Conway's — find them at dinner on the basement floor, Mr. and Mrs. C. and Mr. Smalley, European Correspondent of New York Tribune — lively chat. Then to Peter Taylor's, an evening gathering. Conway and I walk, fine starry night. Bed at his house ; lie long awake.

Lavender Sweep — rail to Chelsea, cab to Onslow Gardens and breakfast with Froude, Mrs. F., two daughters, governess ; chat. Study, where he has his cigar — State papers on Ireland, praises my prose style. I feel awkward with him. Call at Miss Thackeray's, close bv ; find her writing — very friendly. Mrs. Cameron's Exhibition — ' I blew the trumpet for it in the Pall Mall.' Enter Mr. Leslie Stephen, tall and pale. Away (pleasant). Call on Carlyle at 3. Find him in upstairs room, cap on, smoking. He talks of the Ballad of Tranent Muir^ by Skirving, then takes me out with him to walk, Hyde Park, Bayswater, and back. ' Leigh Hunt a fine kind of man. I used to read the Examiner with much interest when I was living down in Scotland. Some used to talk of him as a frivolous fellow, but when I saw him I found he had a face as serious as death.' I asked C. if he dreamed much. ' Dreams ! my dreams are always disagreeable — mere confusions — losing my clothes and the like, nothing beautiful. The same dreams go on night after night for a long time. I am a worse man in my dreams than when awake — do cowardly acts, dream of being tried for a crime. I long ago came to the conclusion that my dreams are of no importance to me whatever. ' Ireland — education at National Schools, not good, what I saw of it, except at Glasnevin. To teach read- ing and writing is not education : little good will follow from that. I used to think almost every good would follow from that. You must teach work^ you must drill. ' Criminal classes : I went with a Colonel of the Guards to Whitechapel to see some of the dens, a few policemen with us ; it was very melancholy, the places were not dirty in general. The police know all the regular rogues. In one place we heard some girls laughing behind a screen ; I said in a rather loud voice, " God pity you ! " upon which they suddenly fell silent. We seemed to give no offence where we came ; but one woman, tipsy, said to one of our policemen, *' You're showing us to the Gentlemen, but if they want to see the greatest rascal in London they'll take a look at yourself, you — unmentionable ! " which I thought to be not far from the truth.' C. spent three days on the Grand Jury at Clerken- well, over trivial cases, ' a great loss of time.' ' Your " Ramble in the New Forest " very pretty and pleasant, the only thing in the Magazine I could read. But you are rather losing your time. Go on with your book on Ireland, I advise you.' Back at 5 Cheyne Row, we find a carriage at the door and a demonstrative man in the hall, who exclaims, ' So I have found you ! ' C. asks me to come again. I propose Sunday, my only free day, but he says ' engaged on that day,' and adds, ' it is unfortunate ' — evidently regretting that we cannot meet again this time, as I also assuredly do. (To-morrow I am engaged to lunch at Browning's.) Over Battersea Bridge and up Pig Hill. Lavender Sweep. Dinner — very sleepy, yet cannot sleep much.