"My lieutenant seems to have been cut off in his march rather abruptly also; so I must beg you to imagine what beautiful associations of persons or things he was about to recall, and proceed with my own plain story,--just to tell you that we were more than satisfied with our walk; it quite meets Scott's description. We trod the same path by which Bertram and Wycliffe wound their way from Barnard Castle to Mortham, and a wilder or more witching scene could scarcely be imagined. We had walked from Stockton to the Castle by the side of the Tees, sixteen miles, stopping for refreshment and rest at the little, humble inns which alone are to be found on this unfrequented route; and truly, after the parade and luxury of large hotels, it was a delightful change to see something of simple country life. You would have enjoyed it, too, notwithstanding the novelty of carrying the equipments of one's toilet in our pockets. "At Penrith we found our letters by the May packet, and yours, dear Emma, was most welcome, not only for the news you gave me of my darling children, but for the kind feelings which dictated it, and the great entertainment it gave us. It was just such a letter as we wanted just at that time; it was the latest account, too, that we had had, for though one from Mrs. Barnard, and another from Dr. John and William, reached us at the same time, they were of earlier date. You brought my little Robert more vividly before my eyes than any thing I have heard of him. I could see his little hand resting on Clarissa's shoulder, looking half coaxingly at you; and if the picture made me long to try if he would notice me any better, I was amply compensated for my inability to do so by the knowledge that he was doing so well, and under such kind care. At Penrith I had an attack similar to that which I had when you were at Brookline with me, which detained us a day; but, as it rained, it was not of much consequence. We had projected a drive round the lakes in a gig, and this plan we entered upon the next day (Saturday, 11th),--just such a day as we should have asked for. We went to Ambleside, via Ullswater and Patterdale, where we spent Sunday; heard Wordsworth's son preach, and looked at Windermere. Monday we breakfasted with Wordsworth at that lovely place, which I doubt not is still visible to your mind's eye, as we saw it that beautiful morning. It looked just as beautiful without, and as perfectly in keeping within, as we had imagined it. I confessed our theft, to the no small amusement of Mrs. Wordsworth, who did not, however, seem surprised at our feelings. Wordsworth, his wife, son, and daughter, composed the party. I wished I could have seen him again. * * * * *