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as if we had bespoken it. At Bacharach the sun shone out brightly upon the broad stream. Everywhere did I recognise places I had much enjoyed in company with Edwd Standen last year. Lahneck, the place where we found the childs glove, Stolzenfels, Kapellen & our 2 German friends, Braubach & its white night capped governor, Boppart & its tailor who would not charge us ought for mending my cape or for breaking our fast, Sternberg & Liebenstein opposite to which by the waters of the Rhine we sat down & wrote; St Goar the Lily Hotel, the Lurley and its dark pool in which we bathed & soaked in company with Robertson the ‘officier’ – where the echoes of the horn were repeated by the rocks opposite, and where the notes of our song were re-echoed from the rooms below; where we were mis-

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