two days of tempestuous rain.
Thirty-seven miles did I ride in one day through the worse of these
storms. And what was my resource? guess again: writing verses to the
memory of my departed friend Sir George Beaumont, whose house I had left
the day before. While buffetting the other storm I composed a Sonnet
upon the splendid domain at Chatsworth, which I had seen in the morning,
as contrasted with the secluded habitations of the narrow dells in the
Park; and as I passed through the tame and manufacture-disfigured
country of Lancashire I was reminded by the faded leaves, of Spring, and
threw off a few stanzas of an ode to May.

But too much of self and my own performances upon my steed--a descendant
no doubt of Pegasus, though his owner and present rider knew nothing of
it. Now for a word about Professor Airey. I have seen him twice; but I
did not communicate your message. It was at dinner and at an evening
party, and I thought it best not to speak of it till I saw him, which I
mean to do, upon a morning call.

There is a great deal of intellectual activity within the walls of this
College, and in the University at large; but conversation turns mainly
upon the state of the country and the late change in the administration.
The fires have extended to within 8 miles of this place; from which I
saw one of the worst, if not absolutely the worst, indicated by a
redness in the sky--a few nights ago.

I am glad when I fall in with a member of Parliament, as it puts me upon
writing to my friends, which I am always disposed to defer, without such
a determining advantage. At present we have two members, Mr. Cavendish,
one of the representatives of the University, and Lord Morpeth, under
the Master's roof. We have also here Lady Blanche, wife of Mr.
Cavendish, and sister of Lord Morpeth. She is a great admirer of Mrs.
Hemans' poetry. There is an interesting person in this University for a
day or two, whom I have not yet seen--Kenelm Digby, author of the
'Broadstone of Honor,' a book of chivalry, which I think was put into
your hands at Rydal Mount. We have also a respectable show of blossom in
poetry. Two brothers of the name of Tennison, in particular, are not a
little promising. Of science I can give you no account; though perhaps I
may pick up something for a future letter, which may be long in coming
for reasons before mentioned. Mrs. W. and my daughter, of whom you
inquire, are both well; the latter rides as often as weathe