he rhyme, 'dear brother Jem,' as being ludicrous; but we
all enjoyed the joke of hitching in our friend James Tobin's name, who
was familiarly called Jem. He was the brother of the dramatist; and this
reminds me of an anecdote which it may be worth while here to notice.
The said Jem got a sight of the 'Lyrical Ballads' as it was going
through the press at Bristol, during which time I was residing in that
city. One evening he came to me with a grave face, and said,
'Wordsworth, I have seen the volume that Coleridge and you are about to
publish. There is one poem in it which I earnestly entreat you will
cancel, for, if published, it will make you everlastingly ridiculous.' I
answered, that I felt much obliged by the interest he took in my good
name as a writer, and begged to know what was the unfortunate piece he
alluded to. He said, 'It is called "We are Seven."' 'Nay,' said I, 'that
shall take its chance, however;' and he left me in despair. I have only
to add, that in the spring of 1841, I visited Goodrich Castle, not
having seen that part of the Wye since I met the little girl there in
1793. It would have given me greater pleasure to have found in the
neighbouring hamlet traces of one who had interested me so much, but
that was impossible, as, unfortunately, I did not even know her name.
The ruin, from its position and features, is a most impressive object. I
could not but deeply regret that its solemnity was impaired by a
fantastic new castle set up on a projection of the same ridge, as if to
show how far modern art can go in surpassing all that could be done by
antiquity and Nature with their united graces, remembrances, and
associations. I could have almost wished for power, so much the contrast
vexed me, to blow away Sir ---- Meyrick's impertinent structure and all
the possessions it contains.

37. *_The Idle Shepherd Boys; or Dungeon-Ghyll Force: a Pastoral_. [XI.]

Grasmere, Town-End, 1800. I will only add a little monitory anecdote
concerning this subject. When Coleridge and Southey were walking
together upon the Fells, Southey observed that, if I wished to be
considered a faithful painter of rural manners, I ought not to have said
that my shepherd boys trimmed their rustic hats as described in the
poem. Just as the words had past his lips, two boys appeared with the
very plant entwined round their hats. I have often wondered that
Southey, who rambled so much about the mountains, should have fallen
into this