flowers and ferns in the wealthiest profusion!
Unluckily the wild garlic smells dreadfully, but its exquisite white
blossoms have a most aerial effect, with pink campion, Herb Robert,
etc., etc. On the left hand you have perpetual glimpses of the harbour
as it lies below--oh, _such_ a green! I never saw such before--"as
green as em-er-ald!"--and the roofs of the ancient borough of
Fowey!--I hope by next mail to have photographs to send you of the
place. It perpetually reminded me of the Ancient Mariner. As to Place
(P. Castle they call it now), the photographs will really give you a
better idea of it than I can. You must bear in mind that the harbour
of Fowey and a castle, carrying artillery, have been in the hands of
the Treffrys from time immemorial.... We went over the Church, a fine
old Church with a grand tower, standing just below the Castle. The
Castle itself is chiefly Henry VI, and Henry VII. I never saw such
elaborate stone carving as decorates the outside. There are beautiful
"Rose" windows close to the ground, and the Lilies of France, of
course, are everywhere. The chief drawing-room is a charming room,
hung with pale yellow satin damask, and with beautiful Louis Quinze
furniture. The porphyry hall is considered one of _the_ sights, the
roof, walls, and floor are all of red Cornish porphyry....

_Frimhurst_, May 10, 1881.

I have been into the poor old Camp. I will tell thee. Did you ever
meet Mr. F., R.E.? a young engineer of H.'s standing, and his chief
friend. A Lav-engro (Russian is his present study) with a nice taste
in old brass pots and Eastern rugs, and a choice little book-case, and
a terrier named "Jem "--the exact image of dear old "Rough." He asked
us to go to tea to see the pictures you and I gave to the Mess and so
forth. So the General let us have the carriage and pair and away we
went. It _is_ the divinest air! It was like passing quickly through
BALM of body and mind. And you know how the birds sing, and
how the young trees look among the pines, and the milkmaids in the
meadows, and the kingcups in the ditches, and then the North Camp and
the dust, and Sir Evelyn Wood's old quarters with a new gate, and then
the racecourse with polo going on and more dust!--and then the R.E.
theatre (where nobody has now the spirit to get up any theatricals!),
and the "Kennel" (as Jane Turton called it) where I used to get flags
and rushes, and where Trouve, dear Trouve! will never swim again! And
th