“_Friday._—Rainy. Walked into Ambleside to see Mr. Cotton off by the mail, and afterwards as the weather cleared up we went out on Windermere, and had a very pleasant afternoon. “_Saturday._—A fine day. Tom and I determined to do something ‘gordgeous,’ and so we set out to walk up Helvellyn, and we had some precious good walking before we got up. We started from the foot at a quarter past eleven, and reached the summit at a quarter to one. One hour and a half,—pretty good walking, considering three-quarters or more was as steep or steeper than the side of Beacon Hill[8] which we slide down. Although quite warm in the valley, the top of the mountain was a sheet of ice, and the wind blew quite a gale. It did not, however, prevent us from enjoying a view of nearly fifty miles on all sides. We saw Windermere, Coniston, and the sea towards the south, as far as Lancaster. Ulswater close on the north-east; Skiddaw and Saddleback and Bassenthwaite Lake on the north; on the west the range of mountains in which is Scawfell, 3,160 feet, the highest mountain in England. We saw into Scotland, Cumberland, Cheshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire. It was a most splendid day, but there was a sort of mist in the very far distance which prevented our seeing quite as much as we should otherwise. Helvellyn on the side towards Ulswater descends in a precipice 1,000 feet, and a long narrow ridge, called, I think, Straddle Edge, from its narrowness, stretches out at right angles from the mountain, on the same side. There are innumerable places in which a person might break his neck, or be frozen to death without help, as few go up the mountain at this time of the year, it being a continual frost up there. We made ourselves very comfortable under the lee of a cairn, or heap of stones, which had been raised on the very highest point, round a tall upright pole. I got up, and put a stone at the top, and we put a newspaper which contained our grub into the middle of the heap, having first taken out a quantity of stones; how long it will stay there I don’t know. We then proceeded to grub with uncommon appetite,—some hard ‘unleavened bread,’ some tolerable cheese, and a lot of the common oat-cake they make in the country. We had some good fun, loosening and rolling masses of rock down the precipitous side into the ‘Red Tarn,’ a largish bit of water, and into the table-land below. We then came home by Gresdale Tarn and Grasmere, after a good long walk. This was last Saturday. “Dr. and Mrs. Arnold are very kind, and I have spent a very pleasant week here. I go away on Tuesday to Escrick Park. Next Wednesday week, or about that time, I shall start for London again, and shall be with you about the 20th; till which time “I remain, your affectionate son,