From Cumberland we went right through to Grasmere, lodging at the old Swan Inn (the only one left), which pleased me more than it did Fanny. We drove to Dungeon Ghyll Force and Keswick, and then to Lichfield. Here I had a most amusing evening in the smoking-room, listening to the talk of the city magnates, full of _Philisterei_, if you will, but with a full Shakespearian flavor and a basis of English good sense that pleased me. From Lichfield through Worcester to Hereford and thence to Gloucester, whose cathedral I liked best on the whole, its centre tower being less squat than the others. But the northern minsters beat ’em. Thence to Tintern, where we spent four days, doing Ragland meanwhile. From Tintern to Chepstow we took boat down the Wye, and very delightful it was. Thence to Bristol, where we slept, saw St. Mary Radcliffe and the cathedral, and then through to London. The sight of masts at Bristol was a cordial to me, and I thought them the finest trees I had seen in England. I have not been over well since I have been in England. “Flying gout” I am fain to call it, and I am now drinking _Vichy_ in the hope to make it fly altogether. But it is partly _dumps_, I fancy, for travelling bores me horribly. I am wretched at not finding a letter from Mabel here, and J. H. and Rowse have vanished, leaving no sign. I shall be all ready to come over so soon as I hear from you. You will find me dull, but honestly willing to brighten. A few days with you will do me infinite good. It is abroad that one truly misses friends. At home one is always expecting them back, and they do half come back in a thousand things that daily recall them. But here! _To the Same._ 11 DOVER STREET, PICCADILLY, 20 September, 1872. ... I will take the room at your hotel to begin on Monday, and shall without doubt be in Paris on Monday night at 8.15, according to the railway guide. I can only hope that trains are more punctual in France than here, where I have literally not found _one_ up to time since I landed in Ireland, and often more than an hour behind it.... My gout seems to have left off threatening, though it bullied me well for some weeks, but I have been out of sorts ever since I got here, _why_ I can’t divine. We have had letters from Mabel, in good health and happy, which have done me great good.... _To the Same._ HOTEL DE LORRAINE, RUE DE BEAUNE, NO. 7, 16 October, 1872.