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"Why weeps the Muse for England? What appears

In England's case to move the Muse to tears?

From side to side of her delightful isle

Is she not clothed with a perpetual smile?

Can nature add a charm, or art confer

A new-found luxury, not seen in her?"

last left me under the hospitable roof of Harriet Martineau. I had long had an invitation to visit this distinguished friend of our race, and as the invitation was renewed during my tour through the north, I did not feel disposed to decline it, and thereby lose so favorable an opportunity of meeting with one who had written so much in behalf of the oppressed of our land. About a mile from the head of Lake Windermere, and immediately under Wonsfell, and encircled by mountains on all sides except the south-west, lies the picturesque little town of Ambleside; and the brightest spot in the place is "The Knoll," the resilience of Miss Martineau.

We reached "The Knoll" a little after night-fall, and a cordial shake of the hand by Miss M. who was waiting for us, trumpet in hand, soon assured us that we had met with a warm friend.