The 5th Sunday here ― & would I were away: yet I bethink me, Sundays ― when I am settled anywhere, ― are always “sad & strange.” However, the day is once more lovely to a fabulous degree. ―
After breakfast wrote to Mr. Ashton of Hayton ―― & read & wrote ― determining not to go to Church till next Sunday ― till 1. When G. came back with his 2 boys. Nicolo the eldest is a fine lad with good expression & eyes. Little Karalambi is very pretty but I think very delicate, & I do not think, if he does not get stronger, that he will live. But what is life?
“O Life! ― o earth! ― o time! ―”
Now ― 1.30 ― to go out, or not? There are times when this loneliness is too dreadful almost to bear ― yet it is less so of late ― & yesterday I was much better. There are so many causes now also for dejection ― over & above those of old ― that on the whole I think myself better.
However, at 2 I walked over the new “Parga” road, to the Potamò ditto, & then by the Govino marsh road up to the Potamò giro,1 which I took. The glen=scenery ― or rather glades of olive woods ― so filmy & sparkly are truly wondrous ― & almost inimitable: & so also the light olives above Potamo, with the sea & snow mountains: & the thick groves of Εὐροπώλυς ―: ― then, the black-kerchief’d dames of Ποταμὸς, ― & so slowly ― & sadly ― to the Alipõ road & across by the Poplars to the S.ta Decca, & so ‘home’ by 6¼. ― Giorgio turned out a dinner of macaroni, duck & sausages, & I asked questions of Suli, ― but he is abstract & “testa di Legno”2 as he says of his son Nicólo. ― The Maudes are tolerably quiet in these days. But I by no means feel that it is profitable to go on long ― even so long as 3 months here.
[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3.]