in his and Lord de Maulay's company.

Now I'll tell you what I've done to-day--my holiday. In the first place
it poured with rain all the morning, so I sent for a pair of battledores
and a shuttlecock, and when Charles Mason came to render up last night's
account, I made him come into a beautiful large ball-room I had
discovered in this house, and took a good breathing; and he, being like
Hamlet, "fat and scant of breath," took it hard.

NEW LONDON INN, EXETER, Monday, June 21st.
DEAR HAL,

Thanks for the purse, which I received this morning. I think you must
imagine these country managers pay me as the monks did Correggio, in
copper; perhaps, too, you have visions of me carrying my pay home on my
back, as he did. (I forget whether that sad story is among the
traditions exploded by modern _truth_.)

You have not received my last letter from Plymouth, or you would not
have sent me again this tremendous "smell." I beseech you, dear Hal, not
to saturate your paper any more with Neroli, or whatever you call it; it
gives me a headache, and turns me sick.

My present address is as above, and I shall remain here until Saturday
morning, when I return to town.

I only like the leather purse because you have given it to me, and
though that makes me _love_ it, it does not make me _like_ it--my
preference is for the pretty, colored, delicately woven purses, through
whose meshes the gold and silver smiles and glances, that you see me
use, or abuse, as you think, and as their use is to be worn out, I am
not much afflicted at their dropping into holes, and in due process of
time fulfilling their destiny.

This inn is in the middle of the town, and an old, dingy, dull house;
and I have an old, dingy, dark sitting-room, and the only trees I see
are two fine _felled_ elm trunks, which I have been industriously
sketching.

The cathedral here is a grand old church, and I went yesterday afternoon
to service there; but the choir was full, so I sat on a sort of
pauper's wooden bench, just outside the choir, and under the beautiful
porch that forms the entrance to it; and heard the chanting, but nothing
else. I had Hayes with me, and she earnestly entreated me to sit with my
feet upon hers, to protect myself from the cold stone pavement; was not
that touching and nice of her? I am sure I ought to be grateful for such
a comfort as she is to me. Poor thing! she has been in great trouble
about her mother.