in his house. I stumbled on him with proof sheets before
him. He read me nearly all the sweet stanzas written in his copy of the
'Castle of Indolence,'[241] describing himself and my uncle; and he and
Mrs. W. both assured me the description of the latter at that time was
perfectly accurate; that he was almost as a great boy in feelings, and
had all the tricks and fancies there described. Mrs. W. seemed to look
back on him, and those times, with the fondest affection. Then he read
me some lines, which formed part of a suppressed portion of 'The
Waggoner;' but which he is now printing 'on the Rock of Names,' so
called because on it they had carved out their initials:

W.W. Wm. Wordsworth.
M.H. Mary W.
D.W. Dorothy Wordsworth.
S.T.C. Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
J.W. John Wordsworth.
S.H. Sarah Hutchinson.

[241] Poems founded on the Affections.

This rock was about a mile beyond Wythburn Chapel, to which they used to
accompany my uncle, in going to Keswick from Grasmere, and where they
would meet him when he returned. This led him to read much of 'The
Waggoner' to me. It seems a very favourite poem of his, and he read me
splendid descriptions from it. He said his object in it had not been
understood. It was a play of the fancy on a domestic incident and lowly
character: he wished by the opening descriptive lines to put his reader
into the state of mind in which he wished it to be read. If he failed in
doing that, he wished him to lay it down. He pointed out, with the same
view, the glowing lines on the state of exultation in which Ben and his
companions are under the influence of liquor. Then he read the sickening
languor of the morning walk, contrasted with the glorious uprising of
Nature, and the songs of the birds. Here he has added about six most
exquisite lines.

We walked out on the turf terrace, on the Loughrigg side of Rydal Water.
Most exquisitely did the lake and opposite bank look. Thence he led me
home under Loughrigg, through lovely spots I had never seen before. His
conversation was on critical subjects, arising out of his attempts to
alter his poems. He said he considered 'The White Doe' as, in
conception, the highest work he had ever produced. The mere physical
action was all unsuccessful; but the true action of the poem was
spiritual--the subduing of the will, and all inferior passions, to the
perfect purifying and spiritualising of the intellectual nature; while
the Doe, by connecti