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THE BOLTONS, where we next lived, is, to m of the prettiest parts of London. There is a about the square, with its little church, ai which the houses circle, that makes the town very far away, and enables one to play at bei the country. Jenny Lind (Madame Goldsch lived a few doors from us, and that chai woman and artist, Madame Albani, acros square. However, " make believe " as one v The Boltons was not quite the country, a our first spare weeks we hurried away to W: mere's beautiful hills and glades. From 01 tie cottage in the Kirkstone Pass we freqi walked to Ambleside and Rydall; stoppii Grasmere, lingering in its church-yard to some favorite poem by Wordsworth while s at his grave; rowing on the lake where men of poor Shelley crowded upon us; then on to Ravenscrag, halting for a moment at the