f us particularly wished to be initiated.

The village of Hitchin is full of Quakers, and I rather think the game
was being played by them, for such a silent meeting I never saw, out of
a Friends' place of worship. But the ride was beautiful, and the day
exquisite; and I learned for the first time that clematis is called, in
this part of England, "traveller's joy," which name returned upon my
lips, like a strain of music, at every moment, so full of poetry and
sweet and touching association does it seem to me. Do you know it by
that name in Ireland? I never heard it before in England, though I have
been familiar with another pretty nickname for it, which you probably
know--virgin's-bower. This is all very well for its flowering season; I
wish somebody would find a pretty name for it when it is all covered
with blown glass or soap-bubbles, and looks at a little distance like
smoke.

Returning home, after entering the park, Lord Dacre had left us to go
and look at a turnip-field, and B---- and I started for a gallop; when
my horse, a powerful old hunter, not very well curbed, and extremely
hard-mouthed, receiving some lively suggestion from the rhythmical
sound of his own hoofs on the turf, put his head down between his legs
and tore off with me at the top of his speed. I knew there was a tallish
hedge in the direction in which we were going, and, as it is full seven
years since I sat a leap, I also knew that there was a fair chance of my
being chucked off, if he took it, which I thought I knew he would; so I
lay back in my saddle and sawed at his mouth and pulled _de corps et
a'ane_, but in vain. I lost my breath, I lost my hat, and shouted at the
top of my voice to B---- to stop, which I thought if she did, my steed,
whose spirit had been roused by emulation, would probably do too. She
did not hear me, but fortunately stopped her horse before we reached the
hedge, when my quadruped halted of his own sweet will, with a bound on
all fours, or off all fours, that sent me half up to the sky; but I came
back into my saddle without leap, without tumble, and with only my
ignoble fright for my pains.

We dine at half-past seven, after which we generally have music and
purse-making and discussions, poetical and political, and wine and water
and biscuits, and go to bed betimes, like wise folk....

This morning a bloodhound was brought me from the dog-kennel, the
largest dog of his kind, and the handsomest of any kind, that I e