_Monday._--At Tiny Inn. Fine afternoon. Feel quite happy. With summer clothes, summer numbers, flannels, straw hat, and other suitable things. Seven miles from station. Beautifully clean. Perfectly quiet. Weather changing. Raining. Landlord says, "Soon over." Eggs and bacon for supper. To bed early. _Tuesday._--Wake at five. Up at six to enjoy morning air. Eggs and bacon for breakfast. Still raining. Landlord says, "Very remarkable, since in this place it never rains." Somehow the clouds always pass over neighbouring village, following the course of the river, the ridge of the hills, or something. Have noticed in all country places that the clouds always do this, except when _I_ am there. Impossible to lounge under a tree in this rain. Stop indoors, smoke, and read summer numbers. Eggs and bacon for lunch. Rain going on steadily. Put on flannels, go out. Drenched. Eggs and bacon for dinner. Landlord says they hope to give me some meat to-morrow. Butcher calls once a week apparently. Wet evening. Somewhat tired of sitting on horsehair sofa with damaged springs. Know all the summer numbers by heart. To bed at ten. _Wednesday._--Wake at four. Toss about till six. Then up. Still raining. Breakfast,--eggs and bacon. Landlord says if I cross two fields I shall find the river and a punt. Thanks. Will wait till rain stops. He says it is sure to stop soon. Ask him if one can get a London paper. Says they sometimes have one at the stationer's, four miles off, but generally only when ordered. Lends me a local paper of last week. Reduced to summer numbers again. Begin to wish there were some pretty girls here, after all. They might enliven things. After lunch,--of eggs and bacon,--resolve to go out. Ask landlord where one can go. Don't like to ask "if any girls about anywhere?" Accidentally landlord _does_ happen to mention Farmer MUGGERIDGE'S daughters. I pretend indifference, but inquire as to direction of MUGGERIDGE'S farm. Lose my way. Wander helplessly. Steady downpour. Return, drenched. Butcher has not been. Eggs and bacon for dinner. Smoke, and read advertisements--plenty of them--in summer numbers. To bed at nine. _Thursday._--Wake at three. Toss about till seven. Then breakfast--usual dish. Rain, not quite so heavy. With fuller directions as to road, start hopefully for MUGGERIDGE'S farm. Arrive there. Heavy rain again. MUGGERIDGE loafing about. Country people always loaf about in rain. They seem to enjoy it. Chat with him. He asks me in to have some cider. Accept. Chance of seeing charming daughters. They enter! Now!... Oh! awful!... Cider acid. Obliged to drink it. Hurry back. Lunch. Usual dish. Still raining. Call in landlord, and ask eagerly about trains to London. The next is to-morrow morning, at 8.20. Give way to despair. Refuse eggs and bacon for dinner. Bed eight.