157.
dull, throbbing, painful headache, (which has not left me during
the past week,) and we were therefore, like the day, somewhat
gloomy.     Haney came, on his way to the Edwardses.       I
left, tried Whitelaw�s door, then through the chill, autumnally
bitter wind, to Bank�s.      Here, the washerwoman, his landlady
� a meek little Nova Scotia woman is Mrs Murray, must
needs prepare, in her humble way, quite a sumptuous supper for
my benefit.     I must put down another instance of the woman�s
sympathy and kind intentions to me.    I suppose I must have, of
late looked otherwise than cheerful, for she�d question me as
to my health, and on one occasion, brought up as presents, a
kettle, and a custard pudding of her own making. (A very ex
cellent one it was too, judged on its intrinsic merits!) O�Mana
came in, and we talked till 9 or so, then out together, and
I to my room.
  5. Monday.  To the Mercantile, looking in on Parton
by the way.   Down town to room, relapsing into hypochondria
cism to a horrid extent. Parton up momentarily in the after
noon.      To Thackeray�s second lecture in the evening.
  6.  Tuesday.  Down town once, to post newspapers, and
looked in at Avery�s, to look if anything to do might be obtained.
(I, last week, took in drawings, for Strong, and had to bring
em back on calling again, � �they had enough for the forthco-
ming numbers!�     I�ve quite a little pile accumulated on the
dusty mantel piece.)        Parton up for a short time.  Wri-
ting and unutterably wretched.
  Perchance, in future, if I glance at these entries, they will