a week at Grasmere; and two days after their departure, William and Mary set forward again upon a tour to Wastdale, Ennerdale, Whitehaven, Cockermouth, &c.

W. and M. have just returned (September 19th). They were at Cockermouth, our native place, you know; and the terrace walk that you have heard me speak of many a time, with the privet hedge, is still full of roses, as it used to be thirty years ago! Yes, I remember it for more than thirty years. Oh! how the time rolls along; yet, if it were not for dates, and other artificial helps to memory, I should forget that I am not as young as when you were married, for I feel no bodily difference"

Writing again to Mrs Marshall, a month later, Dorothy Wordsworth said:

"GRASMERE, October 18, 1807.

I cannot express how much pleasure my brother has already received from Dr Whitaker's books, though they have only been two days in his possession. Almost the whole time he has been greedily devouring the history of Craven; and (what is of more importance) he has found all the information which he wanted for the possession of his plan. I have great pleasure in thinking that you may receive gratification from the poem which William is writing. I will not tell you the subject of it, that you may not anticipate anything. In the meantime (but that is a foolish plan, for it may be many months before the poem he is now writing is finished, and many more before it is published) in the meantime I have prevailed upon him to let me transcribe a short one, which he wrote about a month ago, on the story of young Romelli and the Strid; which, as it may remind you of the day we passed together at Bolton, I hope you will read with pleasure." [She quotes, "What is good for a bootless bene?" &c., and adds a request to Mrs M. to read this poem to Dr Whitaker when she sees him.] "My brother

has made great use of Mr Marshall's observations on planting, with which he has been greatly pleased, as they coincide with his own previous ideas of what should be. He recommends every one to plant larches on their high rocky grounds, and oak, ash, &c., &c., on their richer and low grounds. . . Lady Beaumont is very busy planting and laying out the grounds at Coleorton."*

Remaining little more than two months at Grasmere, Wordsworth left Westmoreland on November 30th, on a visit to his wife's relatives, the Hutchinsons,-at Stockton-on-Tees; Mrs Wordsworth having gone there three weeks previously with her sister Joanna from Penrith. It was a sort of farewell visit, the Hutchinsons being about to leave the county of Durham. These frequent migrations from Grasmere show that Dove Cottage had become an almost uninhabitable abode for such a family.

Writing to Lady Beaumont in the winter of 1807, Dorothy Wordsworth said:

"I cannot but admire the fortitude, and wonder at the success, with which he has laboured, in that one room, common to all the family, to all visitors, and where the children frequently play beside him.”

It was the want of sufficient accommodation in Dove Cottage, and his wish to be of use to Coleridge, that led him to move about so much at this time.

At Stockton he composed the half of The White Doe of Rylstone. They all returned to Grasmere, however, on the Wednesday before Christmas 1807. How long Wordsworth remained at home that winter I find it difficult to say.

From an undated letter of Miss Wordsworth's to Lady

* Writing to Mrs Marshall on the 26th July 1812, and referring to her record of the tour in Scotland, Dorothy Wordsworth said, By-the-bye, its title is not properly a Journal, or Tour, but 'Recollections of a Tour in Scotland.'

Beaumont, written, I think, early in 1808, I infer that his movements depended a good deal on those of Coleridge. She writes:

"Poor Coleridge! I have deferred speaking of him to the last, for I have nothing good to say. We have been exceedingly distressed by the two letters which we have had from him, and still more by an account that came from Keswick; insomuch that my brother was only prevented by his own illness from setting off to London. He wrote to Coleridge requesting an immediate answer, and also wrote to Miss Lamb to desire her to go to him, and see exactly how he is, and inform us; and upon the nature of her answer and Coleridge's, it will depend whether my brother goes to London or not. His object will be to attend upon Coleridge as long as he (Coleridge) is obliged to stay in London, or to see that he is likely to be attended to, and to prevail upon him, as soon as he is at liberty, to come into the north."

Again, on the 23rd February 1808, she wrote to Mrs Marshall :

"We have had such alarming accounts of the state of our poor friend Coleridge's health, that my brother has determined to go up to London to see him, and if he be strong enough, to endeavour to persuade him to return to this country. He had engaged to deliver a course of lectures at the Royal Institution, and having got through two (as we have heard from others, to the great delight of the listeners) he has been obliged to give up the attempt. He himself told us that he got through the last with the utmost fear and difficulty. My brother leaves home tomorrow. Our spirits are greatly depressed by this sad news. Coleridge himself thinks that he cannot live many months; but we hope that he looks on the worst side of his condition, and that my brother's presence may be of service to him."

She also says in this letter that she is anxious to send the MS. of The White Doe of Rylstone to Mrs Marshall, and asks her to show it to Dr Whitaker, because her brother is desirous to get his opinion of it before sending it to press; and is " anxious to push on the printing, and to correct the press himself in London."

In a letter from Grasmere, evidently written next day, she explains that Southey had taken the MS. of the White Doe with him to Ambleside, meaning to go south by Leeds, and leave it with Mrs Marshall for Dr Whitaker to see, but that Southey went by Liverpool, and adds :

"William left us yesterday. Mary accompanied him to Kendal. I went as far as Low Wood. The day was delightful, warm and sunny; the lake glittered, the birds sang in full concert, and we could not but be cheered at parting. It seemed as if the heavens looked favourably upon our hopes, but alas! Coleridge is very ill; yet we gather consolation from past experience. He has often appeared to be dying, and has all at once recovered health and spirits. No doubt, however, his constitution must be weakened more and more by every attack. . . .'

Wordsworth found Coleridge better than he expected. He was with him a good deal in London, and he also visited the Beaumonts at Dunmow, Essex; but he left the South and returned to Grasmere, either in the end of March or the beginning of April. In April he wrote to Sir George of the London visit:

"I heard Coleridge lecture twice, and he seemed to give great satisfaction; but he was not in spirits, and suffered much during the course of the week, both in body and mind....

Coleridge and I availed ourselves of your letters to Lawrence, and saw Mr Angersteen's pictures. The day was very unfavourable, not a gleam of sun, and the clouds were

quite in disgrace. The great picture of Michel Angelo and Sebastian pleased me more than ever. The new Rembrandt has, I think, very much in it to admire, but still more to wonder at, rather than admire. I have seen many pictures of Rembrandt which I should prefer to it. The light in the depth of the Temple is far the finest part of it; indeed, it is the only part of the picture which gives me very high pleasure; but that does highly please me. No doubt by this time you have seen Coleridge, and probably heard him lecture. I long to hear from you, and about him, what you think of the state of his health and spirits, &c., &c., Pray tell Lady Beaumont that I left my poem in C.'s possession so that, if she wishes to read it again, she may easily procure it of him.

We live in hope that our new house will be ready for us in May. As you will guess, we are sadly cooped up here, particularly at this time. But how happy are we altogether again! If but poor Coleridge were in the right way, we should be content-in the fulness of contentment.

My heart has been so occupied since my return with my own family that I have scarcely greeted, or noticed the beautiful vale in which we live, and our sheltering mountains; but this is a pleasure to come. You will deem it strange, but really some of the imagery of London has, since my return hither, been more present to my mind than that of this noble vale. I left Coleridge at seven o'clock on Sunday morning, and walked towards the city in a very thoughtful and melancholy state of mind. I had passed through Temple Bar and by St Dunstan's, noticing nothing, and entirely occupied with my own thoughts, when, looking up, I saw before me the avenue of Fleet Street, silent, empty, and pure white, with a sprinkling of new-fallen snow, not a cart or carriage to obstruct the view, no noise, only a few soundless and dusky foot-passengers here and there. You remember