212. Robert Bloomfield to Mary Ann Bloomfield, 16 August 1807* 

Stouts Hill. Sunday morning Aug. 16, 1807

My Dear Mary

Hannah's parcell came to hand yesterday. I recolected soon after my departure, that I had left an article behind me, and on my arrival found that I could do very well without it, but as you have sent it, all is well. I am certain you cannot concieve a place so charming as the Valley of Uley. The high ground that surrounds on all sides except one opening where the little stream runs off towards the Severn, is cloath'd from top to bottom with woods, and projecting and retiring from a regular line presents the most inconceivably beautiful variety of light and shade. These woods are about four times the hight height of the 'One Tree Hill' at Greenwich, and in some places much steeper. On the north side of the valley rises a bold promontory called 'the Berry,' 4 hundred foot, or much such another as Box Hill, only quite naked at the top, on this Hill are the remains of a Camp, and from its top, the valley lies under the eye cloathd in such a coat of green as is seldom met with. In the middle of this Valley stands the Village of Uley, and close by it, on a little eminence, the house in which I am writing.— But I must now proceed to inform you, that after exploring all the home scene with Mrs B. I yesterday rode with Mr B in a Gigg to Stinchcomb Hill, of much greater magnitude than any immediately around Uley. This is a magnificent view which I cannot here attempt to describe, but must, on account of the post which goes from hence at ten, inform you that the whole journey was last night arranged, and we set off tomorrow morning at eleven. Mr and Mrs B and self, Mr Cooper and two Daughters, and two Sons, with Miss Ewen the governess. They take two Sociables, and about seven Horses,—to cross the Severn, and proceed to Ross, Monmouth and Chepstow, and then wheel round to the right, through Radnor and Brecon, round to the Malvern Hills in Worcestershire, and home by Gloucester, &c. They take Scetch-Books, and every thing that can render a ten days journey delightfull. I doubt I shall not be able to write to you untill my return here, So do not fail of sending me the account of all at home that I may have it by Wednesday week, when we hope to be at Stout's Hill again.—I shall keep a [word deleted] journal both in prose and in rhime, which shall give us some amusement on my return. [1] 

I meant to have filld this sheet, but the Breakfast Bell has rung, and I have no more time.

Best Love to All, And to yourself peace and happiness.

I am Dear Mary yours

Robert—