Then I went into my father's room, and shortly after he woke up and asked me to give him some Friedrichshall water, making no comment at all on my return, but just behaving as though I had been here all the autumn, so that I felt as if the whole affair were a dream.

Except for this attack of jaundice, he has been much as usual, and when you next come down you will find us settled into our old groove.

The quiet of it after London is extraordinary.

But I believe it suits the book, which gets on pretty fast.

This afternoon I went up Lansdowne and right on past the Grand Stand to Prospect Stile, which is at the edge of a high bit of tableland, and looks over a splendid stretch of country, with the Bristol Channel and the Welsh hills in the distance.