“_November 9._--The girl, who is infinitely superior to Rosa, brought me my breakfast. More chops, not fried, but soddened in relic of the dark ages entitled Dutch oven, for I inquired; and underdone French rolls. Why, O provincial taker, always underdone? What grudge dost thou bear against thy fellow-man that thou seekest insidiously to undermine his constitution with thy clammy bread-stuffs? Girl, infinitely prettier than Rosa, cleared away breakfast. Very shy, and only answers polite inquiries in monosyllables. Asked if she was relation of woman of house. No, no relation; nursery governess to children. Comes from some remote district in the west of England; evidently objects to be precise as to locality. Heard her go down kitchen stairs with tea-things, and did _not_ hear her reascend them. Conclude that the nursery is somewhere in the cellarage. Read hard all day. Smoke and stroll in the evening. Landlady waited on me at dinner. Dismal change, after monosyllabic girl, recalling Death’s-head at Egyptian banquets, but _not_ crowned with flowers. More reading after dinner, brandy-and-water cold, and now to bed. Have ordered mattress to be put over flock. Sleeping on knobby surface all very well now and then, but not for a permanence. Mem: To keep my eye upon Lord Paisley’s ‘Blazing Tom,’ for the Craven meeting. “_November 12._--No diary yesterday or the day before. Read with German crib: wonderful fellows those Germans for first-class translations of classic fogies. Wrote to H. C. to put a pony on ‘Blazing Tom.’ Walked on the Esplanade in the afternoon, and made the acquaintance of monosyllabic Cornish girl, infinitely prettier than Rosa. Yes, I succeeded in breaking the ice, with considerable trouble; for I never _did_ see anything feminine so shy and frightened as this brown-eyed Cornish girl. ‘Her eye’s dark charm,’ &c. Well, there _is_ something of the gazelle in her eyes, something shrinking and fawn-like. I could fancy the white doe of what’s-its-name looking as she looked at me yesterday.