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‘ [359] obliged to split; and yet I hope that we may get along.’ This refers to Brougham's articles in the ‘Edinburgh Review.’ He is trying to push the Review further than its editor wishes to go.

My last to you left me at Keswick. Southey was away on a tour upon the Continent. He has a young and lovely daughter, whom I saw at Wordsworth's. From Keswick I went to Penrith; passed a day with Sir George Back;1 came up through Carlisle; noted on my left the road to Gretna Green; drove by the side of the Ettrick and the Tweed, and under the very shadow of Branksome Hall to Melrose, where I now am under the hospitable roof of one of the ablest, best-informed, and most amiable men I have ever known,—Sir David B.,—with the thick-coming fancies filling my mind, and my whole soul absorbed in the hallowed associations of the place. With the Eildon Hills staring into your windows, and old Melrose full in sight, could you sleep? I wish that you could enjoy this scene; but I hope that my sketch may give you a small idea of what it is.

As ever yours,

C. S.

To George S. Hillard.

Riccarton House, Sept. 19, 1838.
Again I send you greeting, from one of the pleasantest houses in which I have had the fortune to be entertained. I am now the guest of Sir James Gibson Craig,2 an old staunch Whig, the friend of Fox, who received his baronetcy from the present ministry. His place is about seven miles from Edinburgh. He is at the head of the Whigs of Edinburgh, and is the Keeper of the Signet; but his great worth and political influence are comparatively local, and you will doubtless feel more interested in one whose labors have passed the bounds of countries and territories, as have Lord Jeffrey's.3 I was at Craigcrook Castle last evening, and passed a good portion of to-day with his Lordship in his study. Never have I heard any one express himself with such grace, beauty, precision, and variety of word as did Jeffrey, when I introduced the name of Jeremy Taylor; to catch and send you his language would be like wreathing into this scrawl the brilliant colors of the rainbow. I am tired—as doubtless you are—of my descriptions of the persons and conversations of those I meet. I will not give you another sketch, and yet I

1 1796-1857; an Arctic voyager.

2 Sir James died in 1850, at the age of eighty-four.

3 Francis Jeffrey, 1773-1850; one of the founders of the ‘Edinburgh Review,’ and one of its writers for nearly fifty years. He visited New York in 1813, where he married his second wife, Charlotte Wilkes, the grand niece of the celebrated John Wilkes. A note of Lord Jeffrey is preserved in which he invites Sumner to dine with him on Sept. 18, at 24 Moray Place, and regrets that people are out of town and that the courts are not in session. He says, ‘You have come to Edinburgh at the time of its greatest desertion, and when all our courts are in vacation and all our lawyers shooting grouse. I am afraid, therefore, that I can offer you only a family party and a hearty welcome on Tuesday.’

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