I saw it, and we have
lately returned from the smooth, still Grasmere, where
there was hardly ripple enough to multiply its image;
and where we could have sat for hours, nourishing the
calm and solemn thoughts we had just brought from the
quiet corner of the churchyard where we had sat by
Wordsworth's grave. It was growing dark, but we
could just read on the plain slate head-stone the sole
inscription, "William Wordsworth."

* * * But I cannot make you fully imagine these
scenes, so varied, so picturesque. How little pleasure I
had in anticipating this journey, while those formidable
things lay between! The thought of the mountains
seemed not worth a straw, and now looking back to only
this day week is wonderful. Home still smiles upon
me like a lake that catches a sunbeam; and sometimes
I feel truly thankful that the way that I knew not has
led me here. * * *

The thought of seeing you is bright indeed.

Thy loving daughter,

ELIZA.

To her Sister.

LODORE INN, 5th of 9th Month, 1851.

MY BELOVED M.:--

* * * I am glad to say that we still have very fine
weather. At Keswick we were planning how we could
see Frederick Myers, but that evening his widow was
returning to the parsonage with her three fatherless
children, and we could only look on the family vault in
the lovely churchyard, the school-room, library, etc.,
and think of his anticipations, now no doubt so happily
realized, of the "'well done,' which it will be heaven to
hear." A fine black storm hung over Skiddaw and
Saddleback, and _such_ a rainbow spanned it. The western
sky was full of the sunset, and the lake lay in lovely
repose beneath. Of the clouds we really cannot say
more than that they are often very beautiful, and sometimes
dress up the mountains in grandeur not their own;
but I have seen none that might not be Cornish clouds.

I am quite well. * * * For my sake be cheerful
and happy.

Thy very loving sister,

E.S.

To her Father.

SCALE HILL HOTEL, 8th of 9th Month, 1851.

MY BELOVED FATHER:--

On Seventh-day, after breakfast at Lodore,
we set off for a treat indeed--a canter up Borrowdale.
The morning splendid. Keswick Lake sparkling behind
us. The crags of Borrowdale in the blue misty sunshine
of morning overhung by not less beautiful shades.
We were quite glad to get to this sort of mountain
scenery again, which we ha