The Journal of a Disappointed Man

June 20. It caused me anguish to see my article returned from the Fortnightly and lying in a big envelope on the table when I returned home this evening. I can't do any work because of it, and in desperation rushed off to the stately pleasure domes of the White City, and systematically went through all the thrills--from the Mountain Railway to the Wiggle Woggle and the 'Witching Waves. June 21. To-day I am easier. The cut worm forgives the plough. But how restless this disappointment has made me.... I have no plans for recuperation and cannot settle down to work. July 6. On my doctor's advice, went to see Dr. P----, a lung specialist. M----found a dull spot on one of my lungs, and, not feeling very sure, and without telling me the nature of his suspicion, he arranged for Dr. P---- to see me, allowing me to suppose he was a stomach authority as my dyspepsia is bad. Well: it is not consumption, but my lungs and physique are such that consumption might easily supervene. As soon as Dr. P---- had gone, M----appended the following lugubrious yarn:-- Whenever I catch cold, I must go and be treated at once, all my leisure must be spent out of doors, I must take cream and milk in prodigious quantities and get fat at all costs. There is even a question of my giving up work. July 10. A young but fat woman sitting in the sun and oozing moisture is as nasty as anything in Baudelaire.