external nature."

The cottage in which they lived was very small, but they covered it with
roses and honeysuckles, and had a little garden around it. Inside, all
was the perfection of simplicity, but the soul of neatness and thrift
pervaded everything, and love glorified it all. They had a little boat
upon the lake, and rowing and walking were their pleasures.

They lived in this simple fashion that the poet might pursue his high
vocation, and not be put into the treadmill of any steady work. In after
years, through bequests from friends and a pension from Government, they
were made more prosperous, and their declining years were cheered by an
assured abundance. Rydal Mount has been described so often that it is
familiar to most readers. The house stands looking southward, on the
rocky side of Nab Scar above Rydal Lake. The garden is terraced, and was
full of flowering alleys in the poet's time. There was a tall ash-tree
in which the thrushes always sung, and a laburnum in which the osier
cage of the doves was hung. There were stone steps, in which poppies and
wild geraniums filled the interstices; and rustic seats here and there,
where they all sat all day during the pleasant weather. The poet spent
very little time in-doors. He lived constantly in the open air,
composing all his poems there, and committing them to paper afterwards.
Their friends grew more numerous in later life, and Wordsworth much
enjoyed their companionship, being himself very bright and delightful
company when in the mood for talk. Here that strange being, Thomas De
Quincey, came and lived, purposely to be near the poet. Coleridge was
always at call, genial Kit North paid loyal court to the great man from
the first, and loving and gentle Charles Lamb came at times, sadly
missing the town, and almost afraid of the mountains. Here Dr. Arnold of
Rugby came often from Fox How, his own house in the neighborhood;
hither Harriet Martineau walked over from Ambleside, with some new
theory of the universe to expound; and here poor Hartley Coleridge
passed the happiest hours of his unfortunate life. Wordsworth's kindness
and tenderness to this poor son of his great friend were well known to
his little world, and show some of the most pleasing traits of his
character. This amiable and gifted man, Hartley Coleridge, ruined
himself through the weakness of his will, finding it utterly impossible
to leave wine alone, even when he knew it was ruining his life,