‘Your and your dear husband’s nice sunshiny notes reached me this morning.... I believe that you are wise not to come here, for the roads are very bad, and the climate not very bracing. Sweet Mother says that it suits her very well, and I thrive on it like anything, but not every one might be the better for “water, water everywhere.” We have four pieces of water close by us, besides the moat just under our windows. The Mote nestles so curiously in a hollow of the hill, that when you have walked a few hundred yards from it, and naturally turn round to look at the noble mansion which you have left,--it is actually _non inventus_. You would not know that you were near the Mote at all. “What has become of our great house?” say you. It has vanished like Aladdin’s fairy palace.