and spent an hour "posting his notes"--that is reconsidering,
rewriting, amplifying, shortening, and indexing the contents of the
little note-book he always carried in his pocket. After the notes
he went on till 1.30 with whatever book he happened to be writing.

On three days of the week he dined in a restaurant on his way home,
and on the other days he dined in his chambers where his laundress
had cooked his dinner. At two o'clock Alfred returned (having been
home to dinner with his wife and children) and got tea ready for
him. He then wrote letters and attended to his accounts till 3.45,
when he smoked his first cigarette. He used to smoke a great deal,
but, believing it to be bad for him, took to cigarettes instead of
pipes, and gradually smoked less and less, making it a rule not to
begin till some particular hour, and pushing this hour later and
later in the day, till it settled itself at 3.45. There was no
water laid on in his rooms, and every day he fetched one can full
from the tap in the court, Alfred fetching the rest. When anyone
expostulated with him about cooking his own breakfast and fetching
his own water, he replied that it was good for him to have a change
of occupation. This was partly the fact, but the real reason, which
he could not tell everyone, was that he shrank from inconveniencing
anybody; he always paid more than was necessary when anything was
done for him, and was not happy then unless he did some of the work
himself.

At 5.30 he got his evening meal, he called it his tea, and it was
little more than a facsimile of breakfast. Alfred left in time to
post the letters before six. Butler then wrote music till about 8,
when he came to see me in Staple Inn, returning to Clifford's Inn by
about 10. After a light supper, latterly not more than a piece of