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three weeks I nursed my little friend, finally he recovered, I have had nothing to do but embêter myself for nearly two weeks, the schools are all closed, the weather has been diabolically hot, and I drearly and vainly awaiting a letter from home. But I shall stay no longer, Robinson has been waiting for me at Rouen and Thursday night I expect to meet him then we will shoulder our knapsacks and strike down towards the coast in for a month or six weeks healthful exercise. I dont care much when I go but I want out door air and healthful fatigue. I have been in Paris over a year, with only the variety of a holiday week down at St Malo when we passed Christmas with Sargents family, I have worked seriously and I think made progress though not as much as I wish that I had, so when I am left idle as at present, I bore myself, have no acquaintances to amuse me, and become disgusted and discouraged I can commence nothing for I say tomorrow if I have no letter I shall go off, tomorrow I put off my departure until next day, so that each day I am more abruti than the one previous. I will no go into any high flow art anticipations tonight for unfortunately I have just been reading what I wrote a year ago and when I see how sadly I have come upto my expectations I am not encouraged. I learn one thing as I grow older at least, and that is that any real greatness in this world arising from individual merit is a sphere requiring atlantian legs more solid to carry it than the props of boyish enthusiasm. I wonder when I will write in this old book again——