May 30.—­We left Ferry Bridge at seven, and turning westwards, or rather northwestward, at Borough Bridge, we roach Rokeby at past three.  A mile from the house we met Morritt looking for us.  I had great pleasure at finding myself at Rokeby, and recollecting a hundred passages of past time.  Morritt looks well and easy in his mind, which I am delighted to see.  He is now one of my oldest, and, I believe, one of my most sincere, friends, a man unequalled in the mixture of sound good sense, high literary cultivation, and the kindest and sweetest temper that ever graced a human bosom.  His nieces are much attached to him, and are deserving and elegant, as well as beautiful young women.  What there is in our partiality to female beauty that commands a species of temperate homage from the aged, as well as ecstatic admiration from the young, I cannot conceive, but it is certain that a very large proportion of some other amiable quality is too little to counterbalance the absolute want of this advantage.  I, to whom beauty is and shall henceforth be a picture, still look upon it with the quiet devotion of an old worshipper, who no longer offers incense on the shrine, but peaceably presents his inch of taper, taking special care in doing so not to burn his own fingers.  Nothing in life can be more ludicrous or contemptible than an old man aping the passions of his youth.

Talking of youth, there was a certain professor at Cambridge who used to keep sketches of all the youths who, from their conduct at college, seemed to bid fair for distinction in life.  He showed them, one day, to an old shrewd sarcastic Master of Arts, who looked over the collection, and then observed, “A promising nest of eggs; what a pity the great part will turn out addle!” And so they do; looking round amongst the young men, one sees to all appearance fine flourish—­but it ripens not.

May 31.—­I have finished Napier’s War in the Peninsula.[220] It is written in the spirit of a Liberal, but the narrative is distinct and clear, and I should suppose accurate.  He has, however, given a bad sample of accuracy in the case of Lord Strangford, where his pointed affirmation has been as pointedly repelled.  It is evident he would require probing.  His defence of Moore is spirited and well argued, though it is evident he defends the statesman as much as the general.  As a Liberal and a military man, Colonel Napier finds it difficult to steer his course.  The former character calls on him to plead for the insurgent Spaniards; the latter induces him to palliate the cruelties of the French.  Good-even to him until next volume, which I shall long to see.  This was a day of pleasure and nothing else.  After breakfast I walked with Morritt in the new path he has made up the Tees.  When last here, his poor nephew was of the party.  It hangs on my mind, and perhaps on Morritt’s.  When we returned we took a short drive as far as Barnard Castle; and the business of eating and drinking took up the remainder of the evening, excepting a dip into the Greta Walk.