You see, my dearest H——­, how my conversations are liable to be cut short in the midst; just at the point where I broke off, Lord and Lady W——­ came to fetch us to Heaton, and until this moment, when I am quietly seated in Birmingham, I have not been able to resume the thread of my discourse.  I once was told of a man who had been weather-bound at some port, whence he was starting for the West Indies; he was standing on the wharf, telling a long story to a friend, when a fair wind sprang up and he had to hurry on board.  Two years after, returning thence, the first person he met on landing was his friend, whom he accosted with, “Oh, well, and so, as I was telling you,” etc.  But I cannot do that, for my mind has dwelt on new objects of interest since I began this letter, and my visit to Heaton has swept sand and iron and engines all back into the great warehouse at Manchester for a time, whence I may draw them at some future day for your edification.

Lady W——­ possesses, to a great degree, beauty, that “tangible good” which you admire so much; she has a bright, serene countenance, and very sweet and noble eyes and forehead.  Her manner is peculiarly winning and simple, and to me it was cordially kind, and even affectionate.

During the two days which were all we could spare for Heaton, I walked and rode and sang and talked, and was so well amused and pleased that I hope, after our week’s work is over here, we may return there for a short-time.  I must tell you of a curious little bit of ancientry which I saw at Heaton, which greatly delighted me—­a “rush-bearing.”  At a certain period of the year, generally the beginning of autumn, it was formerly the wont in some parts of Lancashire to go round with sundry rustic mummeries to all the churches and strew them with rushes.  The religious intention of the custom has passed away, but a pretty rural procession, which I witnessed, still keeps up the memory of it hereabouts.  I was sitting at my window, looking out over the lawn, which slopes charmingly on every side down to the house, when the still summer air was suddenly filled with the sound of distant shouts and music, and presently the quaint pageant drew in sight.  First came an immense wagon piled with rushes in a stack-like form, on the top of which sat two men holding two huge nosegays.  This was drawn by a team of Lord W——­’s finest farm-horses, all covered with scarlet cloths, and decked with ribbons and bells and flowers.  After this came twelve country lads and lasses, dancing the real old morris-dance, with their handkerchiefs flying, and in all the rustic elegance of apparel which they could command for the occasion.  After them followed a very good village band, and then a species of flowery canopy, under which walked a man and woman covered with finery, who, Lord W——­ told me, represented Adam and Eve.  The procession closed with a fool fantastically dressed out, and carrying the classical