AUGUST 155 



floating about on the tiny waves that broke gently on the 

 sand. I suppose few can hear that sound of the waves 

 without thinking of Tennyson's 'Break, break, break.' 

 A little poem of Emerson's, much less known, is a great 

 favourite of mine, full as it is of a tender double 



meaning : 



The delicate shells lay on the shore ; 



The bubbles of the latest wave 



Fresh pearl to their enamel gave, 



And the bellowing of the savage sea 



Greeted their safe escape to me. 



I wiped away the weeds and foam, 



And brought my sea-born treasures home ; 



But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 



Had left their beauty on the shore 



With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. 



I feel these lines reproach me for my many quotations. 

 Have we any right to pick beautiful things out of books 

 and quote them without their context ? I suspect not, and 

 I beg you all to consider, if you find them deficient, that 

 it is I who have taken them away from ' the sun and the 

 sand and the wild uproar.' 



In the grounds of the great castle we were near was 

 a very interesting museum. What an excellent thing 

 is a private museum in a large place ! It would be 

 a great advantage, I think, if it were started on many 

 estates, or even in villages, as then the barbaric things 

 and various specimens of natural history which different 

 members of a family bring home might be kept where 

 they are of distinct interest, instead of crowding up a 

 modern sitting-room, where they look totally inappropriate 

 and even ugly. 



There had always been a tradition that one of the 

 ships belonging to the Spanish Armada had been 

 wrecked off this coast, but no treasure had ever been 

 found. Two years ago, when the river was low, a 



