such an impression of stillness as tarns which lie under pre- 

 cipices : and here the rocks sweep down to the brink, almost 

 round the entire margin. For hours together the deep 

 shadows move only like that of the gnomon of the sun-dial ; 

 and, when movement occurs, it is not such as disturbs the 

 sense of repose, — the dimple made by the restless fish or 

 fly, or the gentle flow of water in or out, or the wild drake 

 or his brood paddling so quietly as not to break up the 

 mirror, or the reflection of some touch of sunlight or passing 

 shadow. If there is commotion from gusts or eddies of 

 wind, the effect is even more remarkable. Little white 

 clouds are driven against the rocks, — the spray is spilled 

 in unexpected places ; now the precipices are wholly veiled, 

 and there is nothing but the ruffled water to be seen, — and 

 again, in an instant, the rocks are disclosed so fearfully that 

 they seem to be crowding together to crush the intruder. 

 If this seems to the inexperienced like extravagance, let him 

 go alone to Easedale Tarn, or to Angle Tarn, on Bowfell, 

 on a gusty day, and see what he will find. 



After his return to the Rothay Hotel, and his dinner, his 

 next object is the Churchyard. In the church is a medallion 

 of ~\2Sf orbsbJOrtf), accompanied by an inscription adapted from 

 a dedication of Mr. Keble's. The simple and modest tomb- 

 stone in the churchyard will please him better. For nine 

 years it only bore the name of the poet, but the grave was 

 opened in 1859 to receive his widow, as the inscription now 

 testifies. Besides them lies their daughter ; and next to her, 

 her husband, — whose first wife is next him on the other 

 side. Some other children of Wordsworth's who died young, 

 are buried near; and one grandchild. Close behind the 

 family group, lies pfeiartleg ^oleritJge, at whose funeral the 

 white-haired Wordsworth attended, not very long before his 

 own death. This spot, under the yews, besides the gushing 



G 



