ll it. Wordsworth himself has described the
fireplace of this room as his

"Half kitchen, and half parlour fire."

It was not fully seven feet six inches high, and in other respects pretty
nearly of the same dimensions as the rustic hall below. There was,
however, in a small recess, a library of perhaps three hundred volumes,
which seemed to consecrate this room as the poet's study and
composing-room, and such occasionally it was.

'About four o'clock it might be when we arrived. At that hour in
November the daylight soon declined, and in an hour and a half we were
all collected about the tea-table.

'This with the Wordsworths, under the simple rustic system of habits
which they cherished then and for twenty years after, was the most
delightful meal of the day, just as dinner is in great cities, and for
the same reason, because it was prolonged into a meal of leisure and
conversation. That night I found myself, about eleven at night, in a
pretty bedroom, about fourteen feet by twelve. Much I feared that this
might turn out the best room in the house; and it illustrates the
hospitality of my new friends to mention that it was . . . .

'Next morning Miss Wordsworth I found making breakfast in the little
sitting-room. No one was there, no glittering breakfast service; a
kettle boiled upon the fire; and everything was in harmony with these
unpretending arrangements.

'I rarely had seen so humble a _menage_; and, contrasting the dignity of
the man with this honourable poverty, and this courageous avowal of it,
his utter absence of all effort to disguise the simple truth of the case,
I felt my admiration increased.

'Throughout the day, which was rainy, the same style of modest
hospitality prevailed. Wordsworth and his sister, myself being of the
party, walked out in spite of the rain, and made the circuit of the two
lakes, Grasmere and its dependency Rydal, a walk of about six miles.

'On the third morning after my arrival in Grasmere, I found the whole
family, except the two children, prepared for the expedition across the
mountains. I had heard of no horses, and took it for granted that we
were to walk; however, at the moment of starting, a cart, the common
farmer's cart of the country, made its appearance, and the driver was a
bonny young woman of the vale. Accordingly we were all carted along to
the little town or large village of Ambleside, three and a half miles
distant. Our style of travelling o