In another room there are some copies of Raphael's cartoons, and some
queer mediaeval pictures, as stiff and ugly as can well be conceived, yet
successful in telling their own story. We looked a little while at
these, and then, thank Heaven! went home and dressed for dinner. I can
write no more to-day. Indeed, what a mockery it is to write at all!
[Here follows the drive to Cumnor Place, Stanton Harcourt, Nuneham
Courtney, Godstowe, etc.,--already published in Our Old Home.--ED.]
September 9th.--The morning after our excursion on the Thames was as
bright and beautiful as many preceding ones had been. After breakfast
S----- and I walked a little about the town, and bought Thomas a Kempis,
in both French and English, for U----. . . . . Mr. De la Motte, the
photographer, had breakfasted with us, and Mr. Spiers wished him to take
a photograph of our whole party. So, in the first place, before the rest
were assembled, he made an experimental group of such as were there; and
I did not like my own aspect very much. Afterwards, when we were all
come, he arranged us under a tree in the garden,--Mr. and Mrs. Spiers,
with their eldest son, Mr. and Mrs. Hall and Fanny, Mr. Addison, my wife
and me,--and stained the glass with our figures and faces in the
twinkling of an eye; not S-----'s face, however, for she turned it away,
and left only a portion of her bonnet and dress,--and Mrs. Hall, too,
refused to countenance the proceeding.
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