24th.--To the City about the mortgage, much in want of the tin. Made divers calls, and went to Lowes Dickinson’s, where Seddon and Woolner; he preaching phrenology, and the greatness of the deceased Emperor Nick. I suppose Carlyle has by this time reached this conclusion. 25th.--... After dinner out in the yard, and painted a lot of drops of water on the netting; very cold, and I not in cue. 26th.--Began work out of sorts. Pumice-stoned the man’s hand, and oiled it, to repaint it out of doors, but enlarged the fingers from feeling; and, although the day was propitious (no sun), yet I felt loth to do the bother of going out in the yard, and so unconsciously what Bacon calls our “affections” prevailed, and I began altering the female’s head from “feeling”--_id est_, without nature; and so spent the day till six, when I gardened. The jaw and mouth had displeased me for some days; I certainly improved both, but somewhat at the expense of the colour. In the evening worked at _Work_, as I did last night also; the pot-boy calling out “beeawe,”[117] and the navvy tossing it off.... 29th, Sunday.--... All day at the design of _Work_. This is now to me a species of intoxication. When I drew-in the poor little vixen girl pulling her brother’s hair, I quite growled with delight--A _bon mot_ of Woolner’s was that it should be a point of honour with women to stand smoke as with men to stand fire.... 2nd May.--To town to finish the mortgage. Called on Marshall, and heard that the scoundrel Louis Napoleon had been shot at. Called on Dickinson, and heard that everyone had been ill-used at the R.A.; Millais “talking about giving up his diploma.” To the City, and got £460, remainder of the mortgage-money. Lawyer’s bill £20. Made up my mind, going along, not to lend my uncle any of it, should he ask. After his partner had given me the cheque, I walked out with him to the bank; and I verily believe the stern looks I wore deterred him from asking me. Went and lodged it in the London and Westminster Bank; and then paid my frame-maker a cheque for £10. There is a certain feeling (common to the species, I suppose) about drawing a cheque which were superfluous to analyse. Called on Thomas, in state of fidget. 3rd.--Made up my mind to do much work, and did nil but go to Highgate and Hampstead shopping with dear Emma, and home in a donkey-chaise in a biting easterly wind which gave the dear a cold.... 5th.--To Hendon--paid grocer, and bought flowers and watering-pot. After dinner tried to work, but could not get up the steam, so drew at the design of _Work_. This I have ever found is the way: when everything one can desire favours one, the spirit fails. At other moments one thinks, “If this, that, and the other were so, how I should get on!”