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know whether that is more beautiful even in summer than it is in winter, the hawthorn

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tree where moss doth grow, the hawthorn tree where flowers do blow."" I shall very

long remember this walk: we gathered moss and lichens, cracked the ice upon every runner that crossed our way, knocked off the icicles that loaded every weed or plant which grew within reach, and spent four hours in walking as many miles, seldom in silence, and, I believe, when we reached home, that each of us thought the morning had been well spent.

'I had long promised the children that I would ask D. W. [Dorothy Wordsworth] to spend a week with them, and on the — of April I went to Grasmere for her; on my return, as I entered, I passed all the children, who, seeing me with a small bundle of D.'s clothes in my hand, cried out: "Oh, she's come, she's come!" and away they ran without staying to see even if they were guessing right; in a minute or two they all came back with a flower, the treasured produce of their own gardens; this gave me a pleasure which one naturally feels in any involuntary proof of disinterested kindness. But the day before I heard them comparing the beauty and size of

their flowers, and how long they would probably live, &c. I knew they had watched them day after day, and thought "they never would be flowers." But poor little Eddy [Edward, born 1804] had watched in vain! When his brothers gave Dora their full blown polyanthus, he had only a just budding primrose to offer. He joined in with the circle which they formed round her, and with them thrust forward his hand, but turned away his head, looking as tho' he could not bear to withhold what he, notwithstanding, was ashamed to give. The recollection brings tears into my eyes, as the sight did into James's, who, when he saw Edward's confusion, said: "It's the best Eddy's got, Dorothy, he's such a little boy." And Owen, tho' it stript his border of its only beauty, fetched a polyanthus saying, "Well, Eddy may give mine, and that's a very fine one.'

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'It might be added that Grosvenor died in 1840, James in 1881, Owen in 1838, and Edward in 1865. The other children were Arthur, Mary, Sophia, Priscilla, Agatha and Louisa.

273

XVII

MR. LLOYD'S LATER YEARS

1817-1828

MR. LLOYD grew old with the deliberation and serenity of which Quakers hold the secret. Although he reached a great age his powers never deserted him. In his business, in public affairs both national and local, in his farm at Olton Green, and in his books, his mind found that continuous yet changeful occupation which is its best preservative.

Among the miscellaneous letters in our bundle is one from William Wordsworth to Mr. Lloyd, the publication of which is commanded by the Spirit of Mischief. Herein we find the poet of primitive simplicity (who some years later was to write the 'Proud were ye, Mountains,' sonnet, suggested by the projected Kendal and Windermere line), asking Mr. Lloyd's advice concerning the best railway

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company in which to invest five hundred pounds. This is the sonnet:

Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old, Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,

Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar: Now, for your shame, a Power, the Thirst of Gold,

That rules o'er Britain like a baneful star, Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be sold, And clearway made for her triumphal car Through the beloved retreats your arms enfold! Heard ye that Whistle? As her long-linked Train Swept onwards, did the vision cross your view? Yes, ye were startled ;—and, in balance true, Weighing the mischief with the promised gain, Mountains, and Vales, and Floods, I call on

you

To share the passion of a just disdain.

This is the letter:

'My dear Sir,-You will be surprised with the matter which this letter will turn uponviz., something like money business, and I feel that I ought not to approach you, without previously resting my apology on your known friendly disposition. To come to the point at once, I have been led to consider Birmingham as the point from which the railway companies now forming receive their principal impulse,

and I feel disposed to risk a sum—not more than 5007.-in purchasing Shares in some promising Company or Companies. I do not wish to involve you in the responsibility of advising an Investment of this kind, but I hope I do not presume too much when I request that you would have the kindness to point out to me, what Companies are thought the most eligible, adding directions as to the mode of proceeding in case I determine upon purchasing.

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We heard from Dr. Wordsworth about 3 weeks ago; as he does not mention Owen, we infer that his health is improved. He speaks of his Son John being much benefited by Horse exercise. I hope you receive good tidings from France. We are all very well here, and with our united best regards to you and your numerous Family, believe me to be, dear Sir, very sincerely yours,

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'WM. WORDSWORTH. 1

'Rydal Mount, January 6, 1825.'

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This letter lends point to the late J. K. Stephen's diverting parody of Wordsworth in Lapsus Calami,' 'Poetic Lamentation-such is the title on the Insufficiency of Steam Locomotion in the Lake District':

Bright Summer spreads his various hue

O'er nestling vales and mountains steep,

Glad birds are singing in the blue,
In joyous chorus bleat the sheep.

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