From H. E. Darwin to Emma Darwin 9 [June 1865]

Dearest Mamy

Your letter came in after I had started on our walk, but I don't think there was anything special in it to be answered. I am sorry to hear Papa was not so well. My last was a mere scrabble & all that it did contain is to be contradicted hereafter but I shall go straight on with my news— We made up our minds that as we got so drefful baked walking from 11 till 3 we wd try from $\frac{1}{2}$ past 7 to 12—and it answered our expectations 7 was much wholesomer & cooler. Try all I cd I cdn't get Tina off punctual but we were out of the gates by 10 minutes to 8 wh. was only what I might have expected. Today we tried an entirely new line of country in the Dolgelley valley for which we have to cross the river on a foot bridge. I thk all the welsh are wonderfully civil—a woman rushed down with a step ladder to help us up quite unasked for by us— the two banks of the river were very unequal heights so that there was a clamber to get up on our side. We ask our way, of any body we meet but tis a mere chance that we can understand them or they us even when they think they are talking english. The first part of our walk was dullish we couldn't find a path up into the woods owing to Tina's deceiving me & so we stumped along the high road towards Barmouth for about a mile. It was a lovely high road, so we needn't grumble, with woodey bank on one side & river & mountains onother, of a lovely grey colour. After about a mile & a half we got into despair & rushed up to a little inn & found a man, very amiable but much bent on deceiving us. After having assured us there wa no path at all on to the hills he told us there were so many we shd lose our way. But we risked this & did at last get up on to the hills—they were different from the others we had been on, not so steep & half cultivated in parts but the cultivation here is not ugly because it only consists of a bit of stone wall now & then & copice & fields with gorse and great stones on them— We again asked our way at a pretty old farm house but the old woman cdn't speak a word of English & so had to call her daughter, such a woman about 6 feet high & such great fat red cheeks. I did so wish she cd give us a little of her health. The only thing that troubles us is that after asking our way we always wish to to the opposite of what they have said & then they rush after us & all but push us into the right roads. Altogether it was a very nice walk & must be repeated which is what we say of every thing, & how can it be done in 3 weekies?

After dinner as it was beautifully warm Laura & I set out on a little dowager in a one horse dray along the Barmouth. The lights were perfect: really the kindness of the weather is something too wonderful  Only think of there being an iron bridge accross the estuary at Barmouth! a change from Papa's days I guess. On coming in we were horrified to see a smart little brougham & white horse waiting at the door & on entering we found a M^rs. Bunbury & Miss Napier calling— It was then 5 & they had been about an hour & a half & weren't thking of going Oh dear no.

A call in Wales iin no light thing— We gave them tea & then they rung for their carriage but not many minutes before six did those 2 ladies go. I & Laura ground on with Miss Napier who was violently stifling yawns before our faces & this didn't help us in our efforts. Don't you think it rather funny the Napier–Bunbury connection being kept up? The evening made us amends for the trials of the afternoon for it was perfectly lovely & we sat out till 9—the others drawing & I taking turns about. Miss Napier gave me such a glowing account of the colour Cader Idris wd be at sunset that I took the trouble to go up into the woods to see— Orange first & then crimson was what she promised me but though excessive prett it was not crimson but pearly grey. The rest of my evening was spent in writing to you—a long affair as Laura lies on the sofa & talks all the time & its is only at intervals we write. You will have guessed that this is continued in the morning, but as I left off in the middle of a subject I cdn't put any sign. Today it is cloudy & so I have a plenty of time. I am so afraid there must be some hitch Thorley wise. I have heard no more from Em— It will be too too hard if it all falls thro' now.

Tell Papa I am not sure that there is anything funy in the garden—some peculiar columbines & pink dog dasies & little blue irises & one or two more of the sort were what I alluded to but I will look. If I find my leaf climber & if it is a climber I will get it. I knew I cdn't find it out by its leaves & so I merely gave a cursory glance—& for ought I know it may be as common as dirt. Ask Papa what a bird with dull red tail, a grey body & black & white head is  it flew along a stone wall in front of us & flirted its tail a little in the way of a wagtail but there is no red tailed wag tail, is there? We often see herons flying.— I have n't seen them in the water yet though Hope has. Your letter just come— I am very sorry to hear of sickness again. A note from Elinor—I am afraid no more real hope— I think M^r. B. C. & Alice seem always to take a different view from poor Elinor. Now for the contradiction of my last— Eff. comes on the 17^th. in order to see me so that if we leave here on the 21^st. to get to Down 22^nd we shall have had 3 days. If it is fine & things are agreable I think we will stay till 24^th but we will see how Papa is & what Geo thinks. I am so very glad I shall see her.

Now goodbye dear Mamy  I must write to Elinor | yours ever | Harriet

but not for home use unless preferred it is only necessary you shd know who is meant.