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 she bade us good-bye in tears,—that was the poetical way of looking at the unpromising state of the weather! Of the road on to Melton Mowbray I cannot say much, as it rained the whole way persistently. In spite of this the country struck us as being distinctly pretty in parts, especially at one spot where we dipped down through woods to a ford over a shallow but fairly wide river, across which was a very Welsh-like bridge for pedestrians. On a fine day this would have been an ideal spot to make a sketch or to take a photograph of. Even seen through the rain its picturesqueness impressed itself so on us that during the evening we made a very fair memory-sketch of the quiet nook.

It rained all that night at Melton Mowbray, at least the ostler said it did, and we took his word for it, as we were fast asleep. Anyhow it was raining in the morning when we awoke; and though we waited till eleven o'clock before resuming our journey, the weather had not the grace to improve, so we set forth in the rain bound for Oakham on our way to Uppingham. As we drove on the weather improved. Now and again the sun struggled out for a time, and the cloud-scapes above and the strong play of light and shade on the hilly landscape below were very effective. The country was wild and beautiful, with a beauty of hill and dale, of wood, and hedgerowed lane that called Devonshire to remembrance. The only place we passed through on the way of any importance was the straggling and very pretty village of Langham. Shortly after this we found ourselves in Oakham,