member the peculiar form and countenance which used to 

 haunt the roads between Ambleside and Grasmere, — the 

 eccentric-looking being whom the drivers were wont to point 

 out as the son of the great Coleridge, and himself a poet. 

 He is more missed in the neighbourhood than in the literary- 

 world : for he loved everybody, and had many friends. His 

 mournful weakness was regarded with unusual forbearance ; 

 and there was more love and pity than censure in the minds 

 of those who practically found how difficult it was to help 

 him. Those who knew him most loved him best ; but he 

 was sufficiently known afar by his works to be an object of 

 interest to strangers who passed his home. He died in 

 January, 1849. In the distance, Ivy Cottage peeps out of 

 the green ; and, further on, Rydal chapel rises out of the 

 foliage on the verge of the park. 



When the turn to the left, which leads up to the chapel, is 

 reached, the stranger must alight, and ascend it. He is 

 ascending ^BigtalX^Elount; and Wordsworth's House is near 

 the top of the hill, — within the. modest gate on the left. 

 There, if he can obtain admission into the grounds, he may 

 stand on the moss-grown eminence — (like a little Roman 

 camp) in front of the house, whence he may view the whole 

 valley of the Rothay to the utmost advantage. Winander- 

 mere in the distance is — as Wordsworth used to say — a 

 light thrown into the picture, in the winter season, and in 

 summer, a beautiful feature, changing with every hue in the 

 sky. The whole garden is indeed a true poet's pleasaunce ; 

 its green hollows, its straight terraces, bordered with beds of 

 periwinkle, and tall foxgloves, purple and white, — the white 

 being the poet's favourite ; and the summer-house, lined with 

 fir-cones ; and then the opening of the door, which discloses 

 the other angle of the prospect, Rydal Pass, with the lake 

 lying below. Every resident in the neighbourhood thinks 



