October 1 + 

Telegraphed 1,000 words of Lord ⸻’s speech at T⁠⸺. + 

Spent the night at a comfortable country inn and read Moore’s lyrics. “Row gently here, my Gondolier,” ran through my head continuously. The Inn is an old one with a long narrow passage that leads straight from front door to back with wainscoted smoke room and parlours on each side. China dogs, bran on the floor, and the picture of Derby Day with horses galloping incredibly, the drone of an old crony in the bar, and a pleasant barmy smell. Slept in a remarkable bedroom full of massive furniture, draped with cloth and covered with trinkets. The bed had a tremendous hood over it like a catafalque, and lying in it made me think I was an effigy. Read Moore till the small hours and then found I had left my handbag downstairs. Lit a candle and went on a voyage of discovery. Made a considerable noise, but roused no one. Entered drawing-room, kitchen, pantries, parlour, bar⁠—everywhere looking for my bag and dropping candle grease everywhere! Slept in my day shirt. Tired out and slept like a top. + 