. . . After I wrote to you at Exeter, I went for three days to the
Devonshire coast; and then to Lusia's home in Somersetshire. I never saw
her look better or happier. De Soyres pretty well; their little girl
grown a pretty and strong child; their baby said to be very thriving.
They live in a fine, fruitful, and picturesque country: green pastures,
good arable, clothed with trees, bounded with hills that almost reach
mountain dignity, and in sight of the Bristol Channel which is there all
but Sea. I fancy the climate is moist, and I should think the trees are
too many for health: but I was there too little time to quarrel with it
on that score. After being there, I went to see a parson friend in
Dorsetshire; {222} a quaint, humorous man. Him I found in a most out-of-
the-way parish in a fine open country; not so much wooded; chalk hills.
This man used to wander about the fields at Cambridge with me when we
both wore caps and gowns, and then we proposed and discussed many
ambitious schemes and subjects. He is now a quiet, saturnine, parson
with five children, taking a pipe to soothe him when they bother him with
their noise or their misbehaviour: and I!--as the Bishop of London said,
'By the grace of God I am what I am.' In Dorsetshire I found the
churches much occupied by Puseyite Parsons; new chancels built with
altars, and painted windows that officiously displayed the Virgin Mary,
etc. The people in those parts call that party 'Pugicides,' and receive
their doctrine and doings peacefully. I am vext at these silly men who
are dishing themselves and their church as fast as they can.
_To F. Tennyson_.
[LEAMINGTON, 4 _Sept._ 1847.]