Six hilly miles—A vision for a pilgrim—The scenery of the Wolds—Poets' dreams versus realities—Tennyson's brook—Somersby—An out-of-the-world spot—Tennyson-land—A historic home—A unique relic of the past—An ancient moated grange—Traditions.
The next morning after breakfast we consulted our map as to the day's doings and wanderings. We found that we were only some six miles or so away from Somersby, Tennyson's birthplace,—six hilly ones they proved to be, but this is a detail. After due consideration we decided that being so comfortable and so much at home in our present quarters we would "take our ease" thereat for still another night and devote the day to exploring Tennyson-land, that is to say, the haunts of his youth. We made out by our map that we could drive to Somersby one way, see something of the country around and beyond, and return by another route, a fact that would give additional interest to our explorations. It would be a delightful little expedition, the morning was fine and sunny, our aneroid was steady at "Fair," the country before us was a terra incognita, interesting because of its associations apart from the possible beauty and certain freshness of its scenery.
On leaving Horncastle our road at once com-
