MEMOIR. xxix 



to have begun with — my ramble of last night. You 

 perhaps thought, as it grew dusk, that I was still 

 lingering about the scene you describe ; and so I 

 was. It was with really joyous feelings that I set 

 out at six o'clock, and trudged along the Seven- 

 bridge Road. It was Sunday evening, and the 

 road was crowded with Oxford folks and the 

 militia. The floods which surrounded the road 

 seemed an object of interest to them, but I pushed 

 on, bestowing a hurried glance now and then at 

 the tufted willows, and islands, and shores of long 

 grass, which dotted over and surrounded the lake- 

 like fields, with the dappled sky reflected on their 

 watery surface. Botley reached, I inquired the 

 way to Wytham. A shady green lane was pointed 

 out to me, and I was soon away in thought, all 

 alone in that quiet place ; and so on I strolled, 

 through the fields, past the wood, through the 

 village, and, as night closed in, back again. If 

 I were a word-painter I might describe my walk ; 

 but not being one, should any attempt of mine 

 thereat be intelligible to you, it will only be 

 because you know what I would describe, and 

 can realize my feelings. 



" There had been some little rain, and it was 

 still rather dull and damp when I set out ; but I 

 should have gone if it had been worse, and really 

 the evening ended almost brightly. I enjoyed the 



