I thank you, my dear Uncle, for your pleasant letter, which contained as usual much that was interesting to me. And so Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence are to be our successors. . . . Happy as we have been here, I have a great satisfaction that we are setting rather than rising; that we have done our work, instead of having it to do. Like all our pleasures, those here are earned by fatigue and effort, and I would not willingly live the last three years over again, or three years like them, though they have contained high and lasting gratifications. We have constantly the strongest expressions of regret at our approaching departure, and in many cases it is, I know, most genuine. My relations here have been most agreeable, and particularly in that intellectual circle whose high character and culture have made their regard most precious to me. The manifestations of this kindness increase as the time approaches for our going and we are inundated with invitations of all kinds. Young Prescott is here. I wish Prescott could have seen his reception at Lady Lovelace’s the other evening when there happened to be a collection of genius and literature. What a blessing it is _sometimes_ to a son to have a father. To-morrow we dine with Lord John Russell down at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park. On Monday we breakfast with Macaulay. We met him at dinner this week at Lady Waldegrave’s, and he said: “Would you be willing to breakfast with me some morning, if I asked one or two other ladies?” “Willing!” I said, “I should be delighted beyond measure.” So he sent us a note for Monday next. I depend upon seeing his bachelor establishment, his library, and mode of life. On Wednesday we go to a ball at the Palace. But it is useless to go on, for every day is filled in this way, and gives you an idea of London in the season. _To I. P. D._ LONDON, June 22, 1849. MY DEAR UNCLE: Yesterday I passed one of the most agreeable days I have had in England at Oxford, where I went with a party to see Mr. Bancroft take his degree. . . . Nothing could have gone off better than the whole thing. Mr. Bancroft went up the day before, but Mrs. Stuart Mackenzie and her daughter, with Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, Louisa, and myself went up yesterday morning and returned at night. We lunched at the Vice-Chancellor’s (where Mr. B. made a pleasant little informal speech) and were treated with great kindness by everybody. I wish you could have seen Mr. Bancroft walking round all day with his scarlet gown and round velvet cap, such as you see in old Venetian pictures. From this time forward we shall have the pain of bidding adieu, one by one, to our friends, as they leave town not to return till we are gone. FOOTNOTES. {7} Mr. Bancroft’s daughter. {28} Wife of President Polk. {37} Only child of Mrs. Bancroft’s second marriage, who had died at the age of seven.