4 P.M.--Still seeking. Not so fastidious as I _was_. Have given up the cottage, and clematis, and flagstaff. Only place answering that description belongs--or so I inferred, from his language--to a retired sea-captain, whom I disturbed in his nap to inquire whether he let lodgings. As it happened, he _didn't_. Then (as I very nearly went back and told him) what right had he to sport a brass plate? However, I got some good racy dialogue for the Nautical Drama out of him. 4.15.--More failures. Starmouth busy digesting, which it does publicly in bow-windows. I must _not_ be so particular. I will do without balconies--even bow-windows--but I cannot, I will not, sit on horsehair furniture. 4.20.--After all, so long as I get a sea-view, what matters? I can be nautical and dramatic on _any_ kind of chair. And "Collingwood House," too--what a name for me! I will go in. Rejected again--nothing till Thursday fortnight! I am beginning to feel like an unpopular man at a dance. I regard the people wallowing at the windows with a growing hate; they are the elect--but that is no reason why they should parade it in that ostentatious way--bad taste!... Can't get any rooms along these terraces--I subdue my pride, and try a back-street. 4.30.--Nature too strong for me--I _must_ face the sea. Surely there must be _some_ cards I have overlooked!... Thought so! staring me in the face all the time! Ring--ghost effect again--same old grey lady! She asks me, in hollow tones, what I want. I ask her whether I left my umbrella here (full of resource!) "No!" "Oh!" Back-street again after that. 4.40.--Even the back-streets will have none of me! I grow morbid. Remember words of song, entreating vague somethings (perhaps stars) "to smile on their vagabond boy"--no one smiles on me. And _I_ to have vapoured about "throwing the handkerchief." Fool--fool!... They are more sympathetic in the back-streets, though. "Starmouth is very full!" They say, complacently, "they don't know if there's any place I _could_ get into, not to say at once--they really _don't_!" 5 P.M.--Back on the Esplanade again. Why, I certainly haven't been _here_ before. Ring. While I am waiting for some one to appear, face rises at window--_the measly boy!_ Confound these terrace-houses, all alike! This time I _don't_ wait--I bolt. They will think I am a clown out for a holiday, but I can't help that. 5.15.--No, I must draw the line somewhere. At "Hatfield House," (good address this) landlady appears with eruptive face, powdered--effect not entirely happy--but I waive that. She has rooms--but the sitting-room is out at the end of a yard, and I am to get to my bed room through the kitchen! Can't write an epoch-making drama under those conditions. 5.30.--I am growing humbler--I would almost take a coal-cellar now. Think I will go back to Hatfield and recant.... I have. "Very sorry--this moment let".... "Oh!"