The weather changes again to cold, windy and wet. I remained very busy and quiet in my room writing. A little period of indulgence I set apart, for refreshing my recollection of known incidents in the Life of Shakespeare and the date of composition of his plays.512 This was started by reading Hawthorn’s account of his visit to Stratford on Avon. How delightful it is to turn thus to a subject of pure literature, far away from the passionate contentions of living men! In the evening, I continue Hawthorn’s book aloud.