tourist-looking man approaching from that point, and a woman
looking among the gravestones. Both of these persons had gone by the
time I came up, so that Julian and I were left to find Wordsworth's
grave all by ourselves.

At this corner of the churchyard there is a hawthorn bush or tree, the
extremest branches of which stretch as far as where Wordsworth lies.
This whole corner seems to be devoted to himself and his family and
friends; and they all lie very closely together, side by side, and head
to foot, as room could conveniently be found. Hartley Coleridge lies a
little behind, in the direction of the church, his feet being towards
Wordsworth's head, who lies in the row of those of his own blood. I
found out Hartley Coleridge's grave sooner than Wordsworth's; for it is
of marble, and, though simple enough, has more of sculptured device
about it, having been erected, as I think the inscription states, by his
brother and sister. Wordsworth's has only the very simplest slab of
slate, with "William Wordsworth" and nothing else upon it. As I
recollect it, it is the midmost grave of the row. It is, or has been,
well grass-grown, but the grass is quite worn away from the top, though
sufficiently luxuriant at the sides. It looks as if people had stood
upon it, and so does the grave next to it, which, I believe, is of one
of his children. I plucked some grass and weeds from it; and as he was
buried within so few years, they may fairly be supposed to have drawn
their nutriment from his mortal remains, and I gathered them from just
above his head. There is no fault to be found with his grave,--within
view of the hills, within sound of the river, murmuring near by,--no
fault, except that he is crowded so closely with his kindred; and,
moreover, that, being so old a churchyard, the earth over him must all
have been human once. He might have had fresh earth to himself, but he
chose this grave deliberately. No very stately and broad-based monument
can ever be erected over it, without infringing upon, covering, and
overshadowing the graves, not only of his family, but of individuals who
probably were quite disconnected with him. But it is pleasant to think
and know--were it but on the evidence of this choice of a
resting-place--that he did not care for a stately monument. After
leaving the churchyard, we wandered about in quest of the post-office,
and for a long time without success. This little town of Grasmere seems
to me as pre