After the Musical Festival followed the Doncaster Races, at which, on the great St. Leger Day, the excitement of the multitude was vastly increased that year by the presence of the Princess Victoria and the Duchess of Kent, who were then the guests of Lord Fitzwilliam at Wentworth House. The arrival of the royal party at the race-ground was a brilliant sight, with the turnout of Lord Fitzwilliam's many splendid carriages, all with six or four horses and outriders, and escorted by a body of forty of his manly-looking tenants; and when the Princess was seated in front of the Grand Stand, the upturned faces of the immense crowd that welcomed her made another impressive sight. The descriptions of these scenes, and of Castle Howard, Rivaulx Abbey, and other interesting spots, must be set aside to make room for visits at pleasant country-houses. First comes Mulgrave Castle, where, by Lord Mulgrave's invitation, given at Dublin, the party were received by Mr.Villiers and Mrs. Edward Villiers,10 then staying there. On September 18, the day following their arrival at Mulgrave Castle, Mr. Ticknor says:— 
We began our excursion by stopping in a small village belonging to Lord Mulgrave. We wished to get a little information from the clergyman, but he was not at home. I was sorry for it, for Mr. Villiers told me he is one of the last specimens now remaining of Fieldings Parson Adams, sometimes dining with Lord and Lady Mulgrave, and finishing the evening drinking beer in their servants' hall. I saw the house in which the profligate Duke of Buckingham took refuge from the plague, in the time of Charles II. His tenantry were rejoiced to have him among them, as Lord Mulgrave told me, did him all honor and made him as comfortable as possible, and, when he went away, crowded about him and asked when he would come again. ‘With the next plague,’ said the gracious landlord, and rode off.The next day, at Kirby Moorside, Mr. Ticknor was shown a common-looking house where Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, died, whose death is thus recorded in the parish register of the place: ‘buried in the yeare of our Lord 1687, April ye 17. Gorges uiluas Lord dooke of bookingam,’ etc.,—so carelessly and ignorantly was the death of a statesman, out of date, put on record, even in the midst of his own possessions and tenantry.
About two miles to the northwest of Kirby Moorside, I stopped to see the small but remarkable church of Kirkdale. It stands in a retired and quiet valley, and has undergone considerable repairs; but the Saxon arch of its principal entrance is still surmounted by a sundial, on which there is a plain Saxon inscription, signifying that it was placed there ‘by Orm the son of Gamal, in the days of Edward the King and of Tosti the Earl,’ which brings its date to 1055-65, when Tosti was Earl of Northumberland, and Edward, the Confessor, King.Three days later they passed through Leeds, where the Messrs. Gott—two of whom Mr. Ticknor had met at York—showed him the wonderful machinery of their great woollen manufactory, with a freedom and openness very unusual; and ‘after resting from this labor,’ he says, ‘I went to dine at Mr. Edward Smyth's, the head of the branch of the Bank of England for Leeds, and brother of Professor Smyth, who is now staying at his house. It was a pleasant, quiet dinner; the professor himself being, as he always is, agreeable, with the utmost simplicity  of heart. I saw him constantly in York, and it was one of my pleasures to witness his exquisite enjoyment of the music at the minster.’ A visit of three days at Thorn's House—the seat of Mr. Gaskell, ten miles from Leeds—now followed. Professor Smyth of Cambridge joined the party at Leeds, by appointment, and added to every interest and enjoyment in the next two days by his delightful union of talent, simplicity, quaint humor, and most winning kindliness. Mr. Gaskell had been Member of Parliament for Malden, and his son at this time represented Shropshire. The whole family were rich in cultivation, refinement, and hospitality, and the establishment elegant and luxurious.
Immediately after lunch [on the first day] Mrs. Gaskell carried us to the house of that strange person, Mr. Waterton, whose ‘ Wanderings ’ in South America excited so much remark a few years ago. He is an anomaly; a thorough Catholic, and holding the most despotic theories of government, yet a radical at home, in order to overturn everything now existing in England; living a large part of his time in the woods, with the habits and the sharpened instincts of a savage, and yet with a fine, comfortable, English establishment, full of servants and luxuries; a man of an old family and large hereditary property, yet holding little intercourse with those about him; in short, a mass of inconsistencies, mingled with a great deal of talent and not a little science. We were sorry not to find him at home; but we saw his curious collection in natural history, one of the most beautiful things I ever beheld. The birds, collected and prepared by himself, are exquisite. . .. . There were other things, too; the alligator he rode; the ‘nondescript,’ with which he tried to mystify the naturalists, but which is only a red monkey, prepared by his consummate skill to look like a man, etc., etc. The whole is in his house, which stands in the middle of a small lake, and is approached by a drawbridge,—a fit position and arrangement for so whimsical and strange a creature.On the 25th September, Mr. Ticknor reached Wentworth House, Lord Fitzwilliam's ‘princely establishment,’ and there four days were filled with rich and varied interest, and with the most true and delightful hospitality. 
The journey from Wentworth House to London, between the 8th and 13th of October, was crowded with interest and beauty, and the ten days passed in London were busy, not only by reason of the kind attentions of friends, but with the necessary preparations for a migration to the Continent. In a resume of this autumnal visit in London, Mr. Ticknor says:— 
I dined once with my old friend Lady Dudley Stuart. She is a good deal altered in person, and has feeble health, but her essential character is the same that I knew eighteen years ago.15 Lord Dudley Stuart was at Lord Brougham's on a visit. The company consisted of the Duke de Regina, the Count del Medico,—who owns the Carrara quarries,—and two or three other persons. It was pleasant, the conversation being entirely in French, and much of the amusement of the evening being music. An English composer, who is just bringing out an opera which he dedicates to Lady D. Stuart, came in and played and sang; and a Polish prince-among those who are indebted to Lord Dudley Stuart for carrying the bill in favor of the Poles through Parliament—was there a little while, and improvisated with great talent. There was nothing English about it, any more than if we had all been in Italy. Dr. Holland, who travelled in Greece with Lord Byron, came to see me one morning, in consequence of a note from Miss Edgeworth, and was very kind in attentions afterwards, but I could only find time to breakfast with him. He is a short, active, very lively person, abounding in knowledge, and in very exact knowledge. He quite embarrassed me once or twice by his minute familiarity with American geography, but he is a very simple, direct, and agreeable person. His wife — a daughter of Sydney Smith—was not in town, for which I was sorry. But I shall see them both, I trust, when we return to England, for Dr. Holland is among the most interesting men I have met. He is now becoming one of the most famous and fashionable of the London physicians. The day after we reached London the kind Sir Francis Doyle came to see us, and invited us so very pleasantly to the Tower, both to see it and to dine with him, that we could not refuse, though we could ill give the time to it. So on Saturday we drove to the Tower, four miles off; but the dense crowds in the Strand and the other protracted thoroughfares, with two, three, and sometimes four files of carriages abreast, reaching as far as the eye could follow them, often stopped us several minutes at a time .. . . . It was a part of our amusement, during an hour or more we were in reaching the Tower, to watch these different currents, embarrassments, and contests of the different sorts of passengers. At last we arrived, and, passing the drawbridge, drove through streets and ways that seemed quite long, to the Governor's house. It is one of the examples of the pleasant abuses with which England abounds, that the Duke of Wellington is Governor  of the Tower, with a good salary, and knows nothing about it; that Sir Francis Doyle is his lieutenant, with another large salary, and resides there only two months in the year; and that somebody else, with a third salary, is the really efficient and responsible person. . . . . Lunch was ready immediately, and as soon as it was ended, Sir Francis and Miss Doyle went over the Tower with us, visiting chiefly those parts not shown to strangers, as we had seen the rest. . . . . First we went to the ancient records, where we saw the autographs of the English monarchs, from the time when they were able to write, which is Edward the Fourth's. The most curious to me was the handwriting of Richard III., bold and vigorous, plainly legible, and, especially in a document touching Buckingham, written with choice phraseology considering the date. We saw, too, the Prayer-Book of 1662, with the only authority that still exists for its use, and the great seal of England attached to it to vouch for its authenticity; the pious Charles II. being of course the official corner-stone on which this portion of the religion of the monarchy has reposed for a century and a half. . . . . Here [in the White Tower] we were shown the Council Chamber of the ancient kings of England, hardly altered at all; the very room in which Richard III. bared his arm, and accused Hastings of witchcraft in shrivelling it. We went to the very window where he stood when he witnessed the instant execution of his victim, and saw the very spot, at the corner of the old chapel, where the block was laid for it. It seemed to bring the ancient horrors of those troubled times extremely near to us. . . . . In the Governor's house we found other strange memorials of the past. The room of Miss Doyle was that in which the Council sat, before whom Guy Fawkes and his conspirators were tried; and an account of the whole is carved on one side of the room by order of one of its members, and the names of all of them and of all the culprits attached to it. Over the fireplace is a head of James I. as large as life, beautifully carved in oak. . . . . In short, we saw whatever the most—exact and kind attention could find to amuse us within the wide range of the Tower, and came away promising to dine with them on Monday. . . . . The dinner [on Monday] was elegant, and truly comfortable. Colonel Hume, and two or three other high officers of the proud and fashionable ‘ Guards’; Mr. Seymour, just setting out for a journey to Egypt and the East; Mr. Hart Davis; young Mr. Doyle;  and two or three other agreeable people, constituted the party. . . . We had a most pleasant time. Indeed, the very minute and consistent, but altogether unobtrusive attentions and kindness of Sir Francis make all feel at their ease and happy in his house; and the conversation, which was chiefly literary, with a mixture of politics and nationalities, was as agreeable as could be desired. . . . . One day, as we came back from Wimbledon and Putney,. . . . we drove to Dr. Somerville's, and passed an hour with him and his truly simple, kind-hearted, astonishing wife. He is a good, round, easy person, by no means without talent, or fair scientific knowledge, both in his profession and out of it, but enjoys his comfortable place as head of the medical part of this grand establishment, given out of respect to his wife's rare merits. She is the daughter of one of the Fairfax family, a branch of which is in Virginia,—Lord Fairfax, Washington's friend, was of the same family,—a little, small, quiet, kindly person of about fifty, with a voice ‘soft, gentle, and low, ever an excellent thing in woman’; a good mother, who has educated her family herself, and done it well and successfully; a good wife, managing her household judiciously; a good friend, as Lady Byron knows, to whose daughter, Lady King, she has been of great practical use; a domestic person, yet receiving and enjoying a great deal of the best scientific and literary society, and frequenting occasionally the most exclusive and fashionable; skilled in the modern languages, two of which she speaks fluently; painting beautifully in oil-colors, of which we saw many specimens; and one of the most extraordinary mathematicians alive, of whom all the rest speak with the greatest kindness and admiration. The hour we passed with her would yet have informed us of nothing of all this, except that she is a most gentle, quiet, and kind-hearted person. When we were obliged to come away, they said so much about our visiting them again, that we promised to dine with them on Wednesday, the day but one before we should leave London, without company. We went, therefore, and found only Mr. Babbage, so that we had as agreeable a dinner as we well could have, talking upon all sorts of subjects until very late, with great vivacity. . . . . English kindness was uniform and consistent to the last, but I do not recollect anything worth noting except a visit to Wilkie, the painter, at Kensington, to which he invited me at Dublin. I found him living very comfortably, but very much like an artist. With great good-nature and a strong desire to please, not unmixed with Scotch shrewdness, he talked a good deal and pleasantly about his  profession, and showed me a quantity of rough sketches, and two pictures now in progress. Of the sketches, those he made in Spain are the most picturesque; those he has lately made in Ireland are the most interesting. . . . . It is evidently Wilkie's theory and purpose to find out what is striking and characteristic in his own times, and turn them to account on canvas, by showing them in a poetical light, and on their picturesque side. Of late he has been more ambitious in his subjects, though, I think, still within these limits.