The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1885-03-25
From the Sunday School Times
In the Footsteps of Wordsworth
BY MARGARET ]. PRESTON.

LII Cne fOOISCepS OF w OrdSWOrth
BY MARGARET ]. PRESTON.
think it is the Swedish poet Tegner
who says:
"Ah, If so much of beauty oours itself
Through all the veins of life and of creation,
How beautiful must the great Fount aln be,
The bright the eternal"
And his lines kept ringing in my head
all the way from Wlndernere to Rydal
Water, as we drove through the beauti.
full landscape the other day. The sky
was brilliantly clear, and the sunshine
truly American In its brightness. You
have queen weather, indeed, for your
excursion" said our kind host, as we set
out from the edge of Lake WIndermere,
on board the little steamer The Swan,
for Ambleside-W Wordsworth and South
eys Ambleside. 1t is the quaintest vii
lage imaginable, cropping out from the
hillside like some natural rocky forma-
ton. Wordsworth says that most of the
cottages in the lake country look like ma
tive boulders, shaped by nature into some
resemblance to human dwelling, and we
constantly verified his idea
On our way to the head of the lake,
Dove-Nest was pointed out to us, halt
hidden amid rich coppice-a pretty cot
tage, where Mrs. Hemans once had her
summer home. Strange attribute of ge-
Illus Because a tender poet once lived
here for few months, the spot is conse-
Grated even to the tourist from a distant
land
At Ambleside we took carriage for
Grassmere, and found in our coachman,
whose semi-livery gave him quite stvl-
lsh air, most intelligent guide He
knew every foot of the stored way-iust
where to stop, where the views were
finest, and with the end of his whip gave
interest by what he had to tell, to every
root and chimney pot. We wound among
steep green hills, bald of trees, and strewn
over with sheep-walks and messy walls
to their very tops. These hills are mar
velous In shape, often sternly rugged,
with little of the rich softness which
characterizes the more southern shores of
Lake Wlndermere The roads are the
perfection of roads, turfed to the edge
with such turf as the Rydal Poet used to
boast 1t took three hundred years to
make The variety and beauty of the
wild flowers along the hedge-rows was
something to wonder at. Our driver
gathered for us spikes of brilliant fox
glove foot long, with flowers of a pro-
digious size, and columbines of the rarest
beauty.
Before we reached Grassmere, we came
upon the residence of Harriet Martineau,
tall house, some distance from eroad.
was not sufficient admirer Of this wo.
man, so characterized by lack of faith in
God and man, to care to visit The Knoll
The village OF Grassmere has the same
grey quiet that marks the villages of all
this district We drove at once to the
central spot ofinterest, Grassmere church.
As we entered its green enclosure, and
looked round at the stern, yet beautiful,
mountains, that gather lake and village
into their circling embrace, | thought |
never had seen SO fitting burial place
tor poet OF nature. Don't tell me" /
said, as we threaded the long gravelled
walk through the church. yard, where
Wordsworth lies" for she who walked
beside me had already made pilgrimage
to it. Let me see if my instincts will
not lead me straight there" And they
did.
The Wordsworth plot is filled with
family graves, with simple slabs and
headstones of grey state-stone; only one
marble one among them. that of Dora
Wordsworth, the wife of Edward Quilli-
nan, the we'll known translator OF the
Portuguese poet Camoens. One may be
forgiven little sentiment while standing
here and reading the familiar names
What stern Doric simplicity in the two
lines on the slab over the poets grave:
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
and
MARY, his wife.
We had evidence that personal inter.
est In the poet has not yet died out for
there was cluster Of fresh roses laid
upon the stone, and manuscript copy of
verses, evidently original, addressed to