From H. E. Darwin to Emma Darwin   [13 June 1865]

Dearest Mamy,

I am sorry to have such a poor account of Papa. When are you going to have D^r C. again. I hope you will give him a fair trial, & I shd think he cd not judge without seeing & then what is the possible harm, for I shd hope you wdn't let Papa's stingyness come into play or have the slightest effect. I think we had better come home on 22^nd. & of course you will send for me when you want me. I am afraid Aunt Eliz is gone now for good. Why did she go so soon?

What a go about Miss T. I had just begun a letter to Em. I shall go on with it though it is not so easy to write. As she sent a mesage to me I shd think she wdn't mind knowing that I had seen her letter & I think it is better I shd write in order to save poor Em the trouble of writing explaining it all over again. Anything is better than a doubtful marriage. The man must be disinterested at any rate—but having wild sons & brothers is not quite cheeerful. Today Hope & I are going to Barmouth. George doesn't come till tomorrow & Eff on Thursday so that we shd leave too much for our last days as Cader we are bent upon—& I don't mean to do anything but keep myself & feet in clover the day before Cader.

Miss Roberts gave us an awful account of the time it wd take but I feel sure she must have exagerated or something  Hope must have misheard. It will be a bore doing Barmouth without George but I shant mind going it again with him if he likes company. I really shall have walked well about the country here.

Yesterday we started, after our latish dinner, at 5, up the river which was looking most lovely in the brilliant evening sun till we came to where two little streams join it: So very very charming—one was a slaty river & the next through only quarter of a mile off granite & so as clear as crystal. We climbed down the steep woody banks & got down on to a a great flat water worn stone & lay on it looking into a deep clear pool with no sound but the rushing of the water—nothing in the world is so delightful as a real mountain stream. after we managed to drag ourselves away we went along the side of a reddish hill, looking quite different from all his brethren here & of course said we must climb up it sometime—which is what we say of very walk. I had planned a sweet round upon the Crutchly wh. is the comfort of my life—recrossing our brook & going up on to the hills again. We came to such an intensely quiet little village, church & about 4 cottages surounded with hills oon every side, anything so utterly isolated I never saw.

Coming home we had a long long mount into Nannaw, the highest house in England according to Murray, & such a lovely view sunset red upon Moel earth workQQQQ & Snowdon looking so beautiful in the distance—such a cold house Nannau must be very nearly at the top of Moel earth [work] whose great grey buttresses nearly over hang the road & we know he is one of the highest about by always seeing him. He is our landmark for every walk almost. It was far the most beautiful sunset we have had & we were in high luck to have caught him where we did with Cader bright pink & pink scarfs all over the sky. The colours lasted on in the west until $\frac{1}{2}$ past 9 when we got home— we were so glad of our teas & popped straight into bed. According to Crutchley it was an 8 mile walk but it felt like 9 miles & 9 miles we mean to call it.

I get fonder & fonder of the country.

Now goodbye dearest M. | yours H.E.D.