But the secret of Wordsworth's unpopularity with the dalesmen seems to have been that he was shy and retired, and not one who mixed freely or talked much with them.

He was

'We woz,' said George, 'noan of us very fond on 'im; eh, dear! quite a different man from li'le Hartley. He wozn't a man as was very compannable, ye kna. fond o' stones and mortar, though,' he added. 'It was in '48, year of revolution, one Frost, they ca'd him rebellious (Monmouth), and a doment in Ireland. I mind we was at wuk at Fiddler's Farm, and Muster Wudsworth 'ud come down most days, and he sed "it sud be ca'èd Model Farm," and so it was.'

Speaking of Fox How, he said, 'He and the Doctor [Doctor Arnold], you've happen heard tell o' the Doctor,well, he and the Doctor was much i' one another's company; and Wudsworth was a great un for chimleys, had summut to say in the making of a deal of 'em hereabout. There was 'most all the chimleys Rydal way built after his mind. I 'member he and the Doctor had great arguments about the chimleys time we was building Fox How, and Wudsworth sed he liked a bit o' colour in 'em. And that the chimley coigns sud be natural headed and natural bedded, a little red and a little yallar. For there is a bit of colour in the quarry stone up Easedale way. And heèd a great fancy an' aw for chimleys square up hauf way, and round the t'other. And so we built 'em that how.' It was amusing to find that the house chimney-stacks up Rydal way are in truth so many breathing monuments of the bard. The man who, with his face to the Continent, passed in that sunny pure July morn of 1803 over Westminster Bridge, and noticed with joy the smokeless air, rejoiced also to sit without emotion, hope, or aim, by his half-kitchen and half-parlour fire' at Town End, and

wherever he went seems to have noted with an eye of love

The smoke forth issuing whence and how it may,
Like wreaths of vapour without stain or blot.

But if from the highland huts he had observed how intermittently the blue smoke-curls rose and fell, he was most pleased to watch on a still day the tremulous upward pillars of smoke that rose from the cottages of his native dale. In his Guide to the Lakes (p. 44) Wordsworth has said, 'The singular beauty of the chimneys will not escape the eye of the attentive traveller. The low square quadrangular form is often surmounted by a tall cylinder, giving to the cottage chimney the most beautiful shape that is ever seen. Nor will it be too fanciful or refined to remark that there is a pleasing harmony between a tall chimney of this circular form and the living column of smoke ascending from it through the still air."

And my friend George's memory of Mr Wordsworth's dictum about the need of having the chimney coign 'natural headed and natural bedded, a little red and a little yallar,' is again found to be true to the life from a passage in the same Guide to the Lakes (p. 60), in which the poet, after stating that the principle that ought to determine the position, size, and architecture of a house (viz., that it should be so constructed as to admit of being incorporated into the scenery of nature) should also determine its colour, goes on to say that since the chief defect of colour in the Lake country is an over-prevalence of bluish tint, to counteract this the colour of houses should be of a warmer tone than the native rock allows;' and adds, 'But where the cold blue tint of the rocks is enriched by an iron tinge, the colours cannot be too closely imitated, and will be produced of itself by the stones hewn from the adjoining quarry.' How beautiful the colouring of the Rydal quarry stone is, and

how dutifully the son of the poet carried out his father's will in his recent rebuilding of a family residence near Foxhow, may be judged by all who glance at the cylindrical chimneys, or look at the natural material that forms the panels of the porch of the 'Stepping-Stones' under Loughrigg.

I rose to go, but George detained me. For he was proud to remember that upon one occasion Mr Wudsworth had warmly watched him as he put forth his feats of strength in the wrestling ring at Ambleside, 'in the churchyeard, day after fair, forty or fifty years ago,' and had passed a remark upon him. It was in the days when folk wrustled for nowt no more than a bit of leather strap.' And George had 'coomed to pit,' as the saying is, and after coming again' one man and throwing him, and another and throwing him,' was last man in against a noted wrestler, one Tom Chapman. He had agreed for one fall. Mr Wordsworth was 'a-lookin' on.' George and his antagonist 'comed' together, and Chapman fell. 'And I 'member that I was more pleased with Mr Wudsworth's word than wi' the strap (or belt), for folks telt me that he kep' a saying, "He must be a powerful young man that. He must be a strong young man."

So ends our chat with honest George, the waller. We will next interview a man who at one time, for more than eleven years, saw Wordsworth almost daily. This was in the days. that Hartley Coleridge lived at the Nab Cottage, or, as our friend puts it (with a touch of menagerie suggestion in it), 'i' the daays when he kep' li'le Hartley at the Nab,'-for our friend was Coleridge's landlord. I had considerable difficulty here, as in almost all my interviews with the good folk, of keeping to the object or subject in hand. For li'le Hartley's ghost was always coming to the front.

'Naäy,

naäy, I cannot say a deal to that, but ye kna li'le Hartley would do so-and-so. Li'le Hartley was the man for them.

If it had been Hartley, now, I could ha' told you a deäl.' And so on.

But in this particular instance my difficulty was trebled, for my friend evidently nursed the idea that Wordsworth had got most of his poetry out of Hartley,' and had in return dealt very hardly with him, in the matter of admonishment and advice, while at the same time Mrs Wordsworth, in her capacity of common-sense accountant, with a strict dislike to wasteful expenditure or indiscriminate charity, had left something of bitter in his cup of Rydal Mount memories; and the old man would gladly enough pass over a Wordsworth leaflet for a folio page of li'le Hartley. But he too would be true in his speech, and would speak as he 'kna'ed,' neither more nor less. In his judgment Mr Wordsworth was a 'plainish-faaced man, but a fine man, tall and leish (active), and almost always upo' the road. He wasn't a man of many words, would walk by you times enuff wi'out sayin' owt, specially when he was i' study. He was always a-studying, and you might see his lips a-goin' as he went along the road. He did most of his study upo' the road. I suppose, he added, he was a cleverish man, but he wasn't set much count of by noan of us. He lent Hartley a deal of his books, it's certain, but Hartley helped him a deal, I understand, did best part of his poems for him, so the sayin' is.'

'He would come often in the afternoon and have a talk at the Nab, and would go out with Hartley takin' him by t' arm for long eneuch. And when Hartley was laid by for the last, Muster Wudsworth com down every day to see him. and took communion wi' him at the last.'

Then Mr Wordsworth and Hartley Coleridge were great friends?' I asked.

Na na, I doant think li'le Hartley ever set much by him, never was very friendly, I doubt. Ye see, he [Mr Wordsworth] was so hard upon him, so very hard upon him, giv' him so much hard preaäching about his waäys.'

'Well, but Mrs Wordsworth was kind to Hartley?' I said. 'Happen she was, but I never see it. She was' [and here the old man spoke very deliberately, as if this was the firmest conviction of his life]-she was very on-pleasant, very on-pleasant indeed. A close-fisted woman, that's what

she was.' But further inquiry elicited the reason of this personal dislike to the poet's wife, and a narrative of it will probably win a public verdict for the lady of Rydal Mount, with damages for libel against the man who so faithfully kep' li'le Hartly at the Nab, and so made his lodger's wrongs his own.

'Well, you see,' he continued gravely, 'I remember oncst I went up to the Mount to ask for sattlement of account, for Mrs Wudsworth paid for Hartley's keep, time he lodged at the Nab, and I had fifteen shillings i' the book against Coleridge for moneys I'd lent him different times. And she was very awkward and on-pleasant and wouldn't sattle, ye kna, for she thowt that Hartley had been drinkin' wi' it. But,' he added, 'howiver, I wrote to his mother as lived in London, and she wrote to me and telt me I was to lend a shilling or two as Hartley wanted it, and arter that she sattled wi' me for his lodgment hersel', but Mrs Wudsworth was very on-pleasant.'

I was glad to change a subject that so distressed him, and asked how the poet was generally dressed, and of his habits. 'Wudsworth wore a Jem Crow, never seed him in a boxer in my life,-a Jem Crow and an old blue cloak was his rig, and as for his habits, he had noan, niver knew him with a pot i' his hand, or a pipe i' his mouth. But,' continued he, he was a greät skater for a' that'-(I didn't see the connection of ideas-pipes and beer don't generally make for good skating),-noan better in these parts-why, he could cut his own naäme upo' the ice, could Mr Wudsworth.'