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morning at seven we mounted the top of a coaeh, 

 and had a delightful ride over the highest parts of 

 Derbyshire, through Buxton and Ashbourne, — a 

 beautiful spot. We stepped into the church, while 

 the organ played the Hundredth Psalm, to see the 

 tomb of poor Sir B. Boothby's Penelope. The sta- 

 tue was covered, but I had seen it in London. You 

 know the lines from Petrarch which are on the base: 



" Le crespe chiome, 1' angelico riso, &c 

 Poco polvere son che nulla sente." * 



There is also a passage, — I think from Rousseau, but 

 am not certain, — something to this effect : "Son cer- 

 cueil ne la contlcnt pas toute entire. II attend le 

 reste de sa proye ; mais il ne Vattendra pas long 

 terns.''' 



We arrived at Matlock by dinner-time on Sun- 

 day, and spent the two following davs in that sweet 

 spot. We saw Burleigh House in our way. I had 

 seen it twice before, but did not remember that it 

 contained so many very fine pictures. 



My heart sinks as I now see before me plants 

 and books, the relics of my beloved friend Davall, 

 who languished to see me in Switzerland, — as I do to 

 have you here, — and never had his wishes gratified: 

 yet I will hope ; as Allerton is nearer than Orbe, 



* The lines from Petrarch quoted in this letter were great 

 favourites of the writer of it ; and he attempted to give them an 

 English dress, retaining their peculiar expression : 



" The crisped locks of pure refulgent gold, 

 The lambent lightning of the angelic smile, 

 That made on earth a paradise e'erwhile, 

 Are now but senseless dust, beneath this marble cold." 



