ps of Wordsworth's large, thoughtful, earnest discourse, seem
very meagre as I note them down, and in themselves perhaps hardly worth
preserving and yet this is an evening which those who spent it in his
company will long remember. His venerable head; his simple, natural, and
graceful attitude in his arm-chair; his respectful attention to the
slightest remarks or suggestions of others in relation to what was
spoken of; his kindly benevolence of expression as he looked round now
and then on the circle in our little parlour, all bent to 'devour up his
discourse,' filled up and enlarged the meaning which I fear is but ill
conveyed in the words as they are now set down.

(V.) LADY RICHARDSON: WORDSWORTH'S BIRTH-DAY.

On Tuesday, April the 7th, 1844, my mother[249] and I left Lancrigg to
begin our Yorkshire journey. We arrived at Rydal Mount about three
o'clock, and found the tables all tastefully decorated on the esplanade
in front of the house. The Poet was standing looking at them with a very
pleased expression of face; he received us very kindly, and very soon
the children began to arrive. The Grasmere boys and girls came first,
and took their places on the benches placed round the gravelled part of
the esplanade; their eyes fixed with wonder and admiration on the tables
covered with oranges, gingerbread, and painted eggs, ornamented with
daffodils, laurels, and moss, gracefully intermixed. The plot soon began
to thicken, and the scene soon became very animated. Neighbours, old and
young, of all degrees, ascended to the Mount to keep the Poet's
seventy-fourth birthday, and every face looked friendly and happy. Each
child brought its own mug, and held it out to be filled with tea, in
which ceremony all assisted. Large baskets of currant cakes were handed
round and liberally dispensed; and as each detachment of children had
satisfied themselves with tea and cake, they were moved off, to play at
hide and seek among the evergreens on the grassy part of the Mount. The
day was not bright, but it was soft, and not cold, and the scene, viewed
from the upper windows of the house, was quite beautiful, and one I
should have been very sorry not to have witnessed. It was innocent and
gay, and perfectly natural. Miss F----, the donor of the fete, looked
very happy, and so did all the Poet's household. The children, who
amounted altogether to above 300, gave three cheers to Mr. Wordsworth
and Miss F----. After some singing and dancin