affairs we are mere creatures of Rivers, Lakes, and Mountains. Our yesterday's journey was from Ireby to Wigton, and from Wigton to Carlisle. The Cathedral does not appear very fine-the Castle is very ancient, and of brick. The City is very various-old, whitewashed narrow streets-broad red-brick ones more modern-I will tell you anon whether the inside of the cathedral is worth looking at. It is built of sandy red stone or Brick. We have now walked 114 miles, and are merely a little tired in the thighs and a little blistered. We shall ride 38 miles to Dumfries, when we shall linger awhile about Nithsdale and Galloway. I have written two letters to Liverpool. I found a letter from sister George; very delightful indeed: I shall preserve it in the bottom of my knapsack for you.

The Town, the churchyard, and the setting sun, The Clouds, the trees, the rounded hills all seem, Though beautiful, cold-strange-as in a dream, I dreamed long ago, now new begun.

The short-liv'd, paly Summer is but won

From Winter's ague, for one hour's gleam;
Though sapphire-warm, their stars do never beam:
All is cold Beauty; pain is never done:

For who has mind to relish, Minos-wise,

The Real of Beauty, free from that dead hue
Sickly imagination and sick pride

Cast wan upon it! Burns! with honour due

I oft have honour'd thee. Great shadow, hide Thy face; I sin against thy native skies.

July 2nd [1818].

You will see by this sonnet that I am at Dumfries. We have dined in Scotland. Burns's tomb is in the Churchyard corner, not very much to my taste, though

on a scale large enough to show they wanted to honour him. Mrs. Burns lives in this place; most likely we shall see her to-morrow. This sonnet I have written in a strange mood, half-asleep. I know not how it is, the Clouds, the Sky, the Houses, all seem anti-Grecian and anti-Charlemagnish. I will endeavour to get rid of my prejudices and tell you fairly about the Scotch.

In Devonshire they say, "Well, where be ye going?" Here it is, "How is it wi' yoursel?" A man on the Coach, said the horses took a Hellish heap o' drivin'; the same fellow pointed out Burns's Tomb with a deal of life-"There! de ye see it, amang the trees-white, wi' a roond tap?" The first well-dressed Scotchman we had any conversation with, to our surprise confessed himself a Deist. The careful manner of delivering his opinions, not before he had received several encouraging hints from us, was very amusing. Yesterday was an immense horse-fair at Dumfries, so that we met numbers of men and women on the road, the women nearly all barefoot, with their shoes and clean stockings in hand, ready to put on and look smart in the Towns. There are plenty of wretched cottages whose smoke has no outlet but by the door. We have now begun upon Whisky, called here "whuskey,"-very smart stuff it is. Mixed like our liquors, with sugar and water, 'tis called toddy; very pretty drink, and much praised by Burns.

L

LX.

To FANNY KEATS.

My dear Fanny,

Dumfries, July 2nd [1818].

I intended to have written to you from Kirkcudbright, the town I shall be in to-morrow-but I will write now because my Knapsack has worn my coat in the Seams, my coat has gone to the Taylors [sic] and I have but one Coat to my back in these parts. I must tell you how I went to Liverpool with George and our new Sister and the Gentleman my fellow traveller through the Summer and autumn-We had a tolerable journey to Liverpool-which I left the next morning before George was up for Lancaster-Then we set off from Lancaster on foot with our Knapsacks on, and have walked a Little zig zag through the mountains and Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland-We came from Carlisle yesterday to this place-We are employed in going up Mountains, looking at strange towns, prying into old ruins and eating very hearty breakfasts. Here we are full in the Midst of broad Scotch "How is it a' wi yoursel "-the Girls are walking about bare footed and in the worst cottages the smoke finds its way out of the door. I shall come home full of news for you and for fear I should choak you by too great a dose at once I must make you used to it by a letter or two. We have been taken for travelling Jewellers, Razor sellers and Spectacle vendors because friend Brown wears a pair-The first place we stopped at with our Knapsacks contained one Richard Bradshaw, a notorious tippler. He stood in the shape of a 3 and balanced himself as well as he could saying with his nose right in Mr. Brown's face "Do- yo-u sell spect