For more than two years they had had an invitation from Reginald Cholmondeley to pay him another visit.

So they went for a week to Condover, where many friends were gathered, including Millais, the painter, and his wife (who had been the wife of Ruskin), numerous relatives, and other delightful company.  It was one of the happiest chapters of their foreign sojourn.—­[Moncure D. Conway, who was in London at the time, recalls, in his Autobiography, a visit which he made with Mr. and Mrs. Clemens to Stratford-on-Avon.  “Mrs. Clemens was an ardent Shakespearian, and Mark Twain determined to give her a surprise.  He told her that we were going on a journey to Epworth, and persuaded me to connive with the joke by writing to Charles Flower not to meet us himself, but send his carriage.  On arrival at the station we directed the driver to take us straight to the church.  When we entered, and Mrs. Clemens read on Shakespeare’s grave, ‘Good friend, for Jesus’ sake, forbear,’ she started back, exclaiming, ‘where am I?’ Mark received her reproaches with an affluence of guilt, but never did lady enjoy a visit more than that to Avonbank.  Mrs. Charles Flower (nee Martineau) took Mrs. Clemens to her heart, and contrived that every social or other attraction of that region should surround her.”]

From the note-book: 

Sunday, August 17,’79.  Raw and cold, and a drenching rain.  Went to hear Mr. Spurgeon.  House three-quarters full-say three thousand people.  First hour, lacking one minute, taken up with two prayers, two ugly hymns, and Scripture-reading.  Sermon three-quarters of an hour long.  A fluent talker, good, sonorous voice.  Topic treated in the unpleasant, old fashion:  Man a mighty bad child, God working at him in forty ways and having a world of trouble with him.

    A wooden-faced congregation; just the sort to see no incongruity in
    the majesty of Heaven stooping to plead and sentimentalize over
    such, and see in their salvation an important matter.

    Tuesday, August 19th.  Went up Windermere Lake in the steamer. 
    Talked with the great Darwin.

They had planned to visit Dr. Brown in Scotland.  Mrs. Clemens, in particular, longed to go, for his health had not been of the best, and she felt that they would never have a chance to see him again.  Clemens in after years blamed himself harshly for not making the trip, declaring that their whole reason for not going was an irritable reluctance on his part to take the troublesome journey and a perversity of spirit for which there was no real excuse.  There is documentary evidence against this harsh conclusion.  They were, in fact, delayed here and there by misconnections and the continued terrific weather, barely reaching Liverpool in time for their sailing date, August 23d.  Unquestionably he was weary of railway travel, far he always detested it.  Time would magnify his remembered reluctance, until, in the end, he would load his conscience with the entire burden of blame.