A change now came over our circumstances for the worse, and here we begin the last seven years of his life, three and a half years of long gout sicknesses, on and off, without any suspicion of danger, though much suffering, and three and a half years after that, when every moment was a fear. He began now to notice in his journals when he heard the first nightingale, when the first cuckoo note in spring, and for some time past he had noticed the first swallow, and the first flight of swallows, and then their departure, with increasing sadness. For these twenty-two years of our married life I had made, as I said, our morning tea at any time from three o'clock in the morning up to half-past five, and if I came home late from any party, I found it was not worth while to go to bed; but now he began to have it at six and 6.30. On the 16th Miss Bishop had to go. We went up very much to Opçina, where Richard got better and could walk. Mrs. Learmouth and family came to Trieste for a while, and then Mr. Steigand came to stay with us, and our old friend and Governor, Baron Pino. He notices the death of Captain Mayne Reid on the 31st of October. [Sidenote: _Richard's First Bad Attack of Gout_.] On the 31st of November Richard really got so bad he alarmed me, for he nearly fainted, and I got the master of the Opçina Inn (Daneu) to help me to bring him down to Trieste, and had rooms prepared on the _other_ side of our house; and about four hours after, in his new warm room, he got perfectly well. It was a curious kind of gout, because he would seem to be in agonies of pain, and after trying no end of things, one would suddenly hit upon something quite simple that took it all away. He was well enough in a day or two to lunch on board the _Bokhara_, and also the P. and O. _Gwalior_. We got tired of consulting doctors, and we sent for the wife of the _Schinder_ (the dog-slaughterer), who lived up in the forest of Prevald, and was reported to be a wise woman. She said that Richard had _mandrone_, or flying pains. The worst was, that as soon as he was a little bit better he would forget what he had suffered, and commit some little imprudence, like going out in the _Bora_; it was so hard for him to believe he ever could be an invalid. We went out a great many drives, which did him more good than anything. Sometimes he would pay visits. We used to go to Miramar and sit out in the gardens. I found the best way was to take him about a great deal to different places. I always contrived that he saw plenty of people, asking amusing people to dine or breakfast. I got then an attack of peritonitis that kept me in bed for a week; fortunately Richard and I were never ill at the same time, and I was up and able to attend him when he got his gout back again. In the night of the 19th, the Admiralty (situated below our house) took fire, and the roof was burnt out.