falls around
here--a little dripping of water among the stones.

COLLINGWOOD, Nov. 14, 1857.

MY DEAR FATHER: This is Sir John Herschel's place. I came last
night just at dusk.

According to English ways, I ought to have written a note,
naming the hour at which I should reach Etchingham, which is
four miles from Collingwood; but when I left Liverpool I went
directly on, and a letter would have arrived at the same time
that I did. I stopped in London one night only, changed my
lodging-house, that I might pay a pound a week only for letting
my trunk live in a room, instead of two pounds, and started off
again.

I reached Etchingham at ten minutes past four, took a cab, and
set off for Sir John's. It is a large brick house, no way
handsome, but surrounded by fine grounds, with beautiful trees
and a very large pond.

The family were at dinner, and I was shown into the
drawing-room.

There was just the light of a coal fire, and as I stood before
it Sir John bustled in, an old man, much bent, with perfectly
white hair standing out every way. He reached both hands to me,
and said, "We had no letter and so did not expect you, but you
are always welcome in this house." Lady Herschel followed--very
noble looking; she does not look as old as I, but of course must
be; but English women, especially of her station, do not wear
out as we do, who are "Jacks at all trades."

I found a fire in my room, and a cup of tea and crackers were
immediately sent up.

The Herschels have several children; I have not seen Caroline,
Louise, William, and Alexander, but Belle, and Amelie, and
Marie, and Julie, and Rosa, and Francesca, and Constance, and
John are at home!

The children are not handsome, but are good-looking, and well
brought up of course, and highly educated. The children all come
to table, which is not common in England. Think what a table
they must set when the whole twelve are at home!

The first object that struck me in the house was Borden's map of
Massachusetts, hanging in the hall opposite the entrance. Over
the mantelpiece in the dining-room is a portrait of Sir William
Herschel. In the parlor is a portrait of Caroline Herschel, and
busts of Sir William, Sir John, and the eldest daughter.

I spent the evening in looking at engravings, sipping tea, and