ve been for very long. If we could only have papa and Bro
and Sette[12] with us! About half an hour before we set off, papa
found out that he _could not_ part with Sette, who sleeps with
him, and is always an amusing companion to him. Papa was, however,
unwilling to separate him perforce from his little playfellows, and
asked him whether he wished very much to go. Sette's heart was quite
full, but he answered immediately, 'Oh, no, papa, I would _much_
rather stay with _you_.' He is a dear affectionate little thing. He
and Bro being with poor Papa, we are far more comfortable about him
than we should otherwise be--and perhaps our going was his sharpest
pang. I hope it was, as it is over. Do not think, dear Mrs. Martin,
that you or Mr. Martin can ever 'intrude'--you know you use that
word in your letter. I have often been afraid, on account of papa not
having been for so long a time at Colwall, lest you should fancy that
he did not value your society and your kindness. Do not fancy it.
Painful circumstances produce--as we have often had occasion to
observe--different effects upon different minds; and some feeling,
with which I certainly have no sympathy has made papa shrink from
society of any kind lately. He would not even attend the religious
societies in Ledbury, which he was so much pledged to support, and so
interested in supporting. If you knew how much he has talked of you,
and asked every particular about you, you could not fancy that his
regard for you was estranged. He has an extraordinary degree of
strength of mind on most points--and strong feeling, when it is not
allowed to run in the natural channel, will sometimes force its way
where it is not expected. You will think it strange; but never up to
this moment has he even alluded to the subject, before _us_--never, at
the moment of parting with us. And yet, though he had not power to say
_one word_, he could play at cricket with the boys on the very last
evening.

We slept at the York House in Bath. Bath is a beautiful town _as
a town_, and the country harmonises well with it, without being a
beautiful country. As _mere country_, nobody would stand still to look
at it; though as town country, many bodies would. Somersetshire in
general seems to be hideous, and I could fancy from the walls which
intersect it in every direction, that they had been turned to stone
by looking at the _Gorgonic_ scenery. The part of Devonshire through
which our journey lay is nothi