LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 311 



sponge out of Ebony. I shall also send to Robert for the £10, in 

 case you have not got it. I will write to you on Thursday, fixing 

 the day for our return, The girls are both well, and everybody is 

 kind to them. They are just gone to call at Calgarth, with Alicia 

 Taylor on horseback, with John Alexander with them, on foot. 

 Owen Loyd, and Joseph Harding, and some others, are to dine 

 with us to-day. Summer is come, and really the most beautiful 

 time of the year is past. Write to me on Sunday evening, for we 

 shall not leave this till Tuesday, at the earliest. If you write the 

 day you get this, too, or bid Blair do so, so much the better, for 

 that day is always a happy one on which I hear from you. You 

 are a most unaccountable niggard. Direct Mr. Hood's letter to me 

 here, and send it to me by post. . Tell Johnny to call and inquire 

 for Captain Watson, or do so yourself, my dear Jane, first good 

 day. I am glad to hear such good accounts of him. Keep sending 

 me the Observer and Evening Post. My expectations of my room 

 are very high. I intend to get John Watson to give me a head of 

 you, to hang up over the chimney-piece. What think you of that? 

 The little man does not sleep well here by himself. I do not fear 

 that I shall find you well and happy. Yours till death. 



" Jonx Wilson." 



The allusions to Hartley Coleridge awaken mingled feelings of 

 pain and pleasure in remembrance of his frequent visits to Elleray, 

 where he was ever a welcome guest. The gentle, humble-hearted, 

 highly gifted man, " Dear Hartley," as my father called him, 

 dreamed through a life of error, loving the good and hating the 

 evil, yet unable to resist it. His companionship was always delight- 

 ful to the Professor, and many hours of converse they held ; his 

 best and happiest moments were those spent at Elleray. My father 

 had a great power over him, and exerted it with kind but firm de- 

 termination. On one occasion he was kept imprisoned for some 

 weeks under his surveillance, in order that he might finish some 

 literary work he had promised to have ready by a certain time. He 

 completed his task, and when the day of release came, it was not in- 

 tended that he should leave Elleray. But Hartley's evil demon was 

 at hand ; without one word of adieu to the friends in whose pres- 

 ence he stood, off he ran at full speed down the avenue, lost to 

 sight amid the trees, seen again in the open highway still running, 



