31st.--Began work again to-day; intensely thick about the upper regions, but felt that I must begin again. Worked till dusk, from half-past one.--Scraped out the hand, but felt too stupid to venture to touch it again--did a lot of promiscuous touches. All this week I have been ill with a tired brain.... I think anxiety as well as work affects my head. Indeed, to see how things are going on with me is enough to drive any one mad. This is the last day of August, and the picture, which was to have been finished and _exploité_ by this time, is still on the easel. At quarter-day we leave here; and till I know whether I go to India or not it is no use seeking a fresh abode, and till the picture is shown to some people I cannot decide upon going: and, now that the picture is nearly done, all the people will be out of town. I have as yet had no time to do White’s landscape in. This confounded picture takes up all the time that I might apply to more saleable works, and looks worth nothing now that it is done. I sometimes think it looks most execrable; but this week I am ill, and in such a state of nerves that everything looks distorted. What a miserable sad thing it is to be fit for painting _only_, and nothing, nothing else! no outlet, no hope! I have touched the sky and cliffs again however to advantage.... 2nd September,--Sunday. To-day fortune seemed to favour me. It has been intensely cold--no sun, no rain, a high wind. But this seemed the sweetest weather possible, for it was the weather for my picture, and made my hand look blue with the cold, as I require it in the work. So I painted all day out in the yard, and made the man’s hand more what I want than it has looked yet. Afterwards tried to mend the scoundrel’s fist, but was not so successful at it however. After work, took a four miles’ walk to warm myself, in the dark. Came back and set to work; drew-in the mother’s hand holding the baby’s, in the drawing, which has never been done yet.--Then wrote my name on the picture. 3rd.--... Into London with Emma. Looked at several houses--not knowing if we should want one, or I have to seek my fortunes in “a far countrie.” Took a room at 33 Percy Street for one week, 10s., to show the picture in. 4th.--My last day at the picture, thank God.--Finished the man’s head, scoundrel’s hand, and sundries. At four took my moon-piece; the sky of which had cracked all over, through being painted on zinc white.--Scraped it and re-painted after five; foolish, for night caught me. After tea, pasted the drawing of _Last of England_ into its frame, and nailed the picture into its ditto. Took down the _Baa Lambs_, the sketch of _Justice_, and drawing of _Beauty_, and by twelve got them ready for to-morrow.