EDINBURGH, August 23.

MY DEAR SISTER: Here am I, back in Edinboro' again, at Dr.
Jex-Blake's delightful home--at least one hundred and fifty years
old, with an acre or more of garden all enclosed with a six-foot
wall. Lodge means a walled-in house; loan means lane, and the
street took its name from a white house which two hundred and fifty
years ago stood in this road. Every day the doctor has taken me a
long and beautiful ride in her basket-carriage, driving her own
little pony, White Angel, or her hay horse, while her boy-groom
rides in his perch behind. Today she drove me through Lord
Rosebery's park of thousands of acres. It is lovely as a native
forest--the roads macadamized all through--and a palace-like
residence set deep within....

AMBLESIDE, August 27.

MY DEAR SISTER: Last Thursday I left Edinburgh for Penrith, which
has a fine view of the lake and the hills beyond. Next morning I
took steamer at Pooley Bridge. The trip the whole length of the
lake was beautiful, but can not compare with Lake George--indeed,
nothing I have seen equals that--but the hills (mountains, they
call them here), the water and the sky all were lovely. At
Patterdale I had a cup of tea, with bread and butter and the
veritable orange marmalade manufactured at Dundee. Thence I took a
stage over Kirkstone Pass, and walked two miles up the hills to a
small hotel with a signboard saying it is the highest inhabited
house in England, 1,114 feet above the sea--not very much beside
Denver's 6,000 and others in Colorado 10,000 or 12,000. Arrived at
Ambleside to find the hotel overflowing, so they sent me to a
farmer's house where I had a good bed, splendid milk and sweet
butter. Saturday morning I went by coach to Coniston, then railway
to Furness Abbey, a seven-hundred-year-old ruin of magnificent
proportions. After four hours there, I took a train to Lakeside and
then steamer up Lake Windermere back to Ambleside. The hotel still
being full, "the Boots," as they call the porter or runner, found
me lodgings at a private house, where I am now. It is the tiniest
little stone cottage, but they have a cow, so I am in clover. My
breakfasts consist of a bit of ham, cured by the hostess, a boiled
egg, white and graham bread wit