And now, before the curtain rises on the last act of the drama of the poet's life, let us pause for a few brief moments, and listen to one or two anecdotes, which give us glimpses of Wordsworth as he was in company. The space at our disposal greatly limits our selection. 'At a friend's house, after dinner, the conversation turned upon wit and humour. The author of "Lalla Rookh," who was present, gave some illustrations from Sheridan's "sayings, doings, and writings." Starting from his reverie, Wordsworth said that he did not consider himself to be a witty poet; "indeed," continued he, "I do not think I was ever witty but once in my life." 'A great desire was naturally expressed by all to know what this special drollery was. After some hesitation, the old poet said: "Well, well, I will tell you. I was standing some time ago at the entrance of my cottage at Rydal Mount. A man accosted me with the question: "“'Pray, sir, have you seen my wife pass by?" "Whereupon I said: 6666 'Why, my good friend, I didn't know till this moment that you had a wife !'” 'The company stared, and, finding that the old bard had discharged his entire stock, burst into a roar of laughter, which the facetious Wordsworth, in his simplicity, accepted as a genuine compliment to the brilliancy of his wit.' We are indebted to Cottle for an amusing story, which is to be found in his life of Coleridge. 'I led my horse to the stable,' he writes, where a sad perplexity arose. I removed the harness without difficulty; but after many strenuous attempts I could not remove the collar. In despair, I called for assistance, when Mr. Wordsworth brought his ingenuity into exercise; but after several unsuccessful efforts, he relinquished the achievement as a thing altogether impracticable. Mr. Coleridge now tried his hand, but showed no more skill than his predecessors; for, after twisting the poor horse's neck almost to strangulation and the great danger of his eyes, he gave up the useless task, pronouncing that the horse's head must have grown since the collar was put on; for he said, "it was a downright impossibility for such a huge os frontis to pass through so narrow an aperture." Just at this instant a servant-girl came near, and understanding the cause of our consternation, "Ha! master," said she, you don't go about the work in the right way. You should do like this," when, turning the collar upside down, she slipped it off in a moment, to our great humiliation and wonderment, each satisfied afresh that there were heights of knowledge in the world to which we had not yet attained.' 66 Barry Cornwall, in his delightful 'Memoir' of Charles Lamb, says: 'Once, at a morning visit, I heard him (Words worth) give an account of his having breakfasted in company with Coleridge, and allowed him to expatiate to the extent of his lungs. ""How could you permit him to go on and weary himself?" said Rogers. 'Why, you are to meet him at dinner this evening!" "Yes," replied Wordsworth; "I know that very well; but we like to take the sting out of him beforehand."' Wordsworth was dearly attached to Lamb, whose demeanour to the great poet, says Barry Cornwall, was almost respectful.' But Lamb, 'the frolic and the gentle,' was a whimsical fellow, and there were occasions when, in the mirthfulness of his disposition, he forgot himself. Leigh Hunt states, that, meeting Wordsworth one evening at a friend's house, Lamb, instead of taking the poet's hand in the good, old-fashioned, orthodox way, shook him by the nose, with the greeting, 'How d'ye do, old Lake Poet?' The contrast between the conduct of the grave and solemn Wordsworth and that of the humorous Lamb, was about as wide as it is possible to imagine, and there is, perhaps, a sly hint at the gravity of the former conveyed in the following lines, addressed by Lamb to the poet: dd people have come in,' he writes, and I must finish abruptly. By d-d, I only mean deuced.' Some 'Wordsworth and myself,' said Rogers, 'had walked to Highgate to call on Coleridge, when he was living at Dr. Gillman's. We sat with him two hours; he talking the whole time without intermission. When we left the house we walked for some time without speaking. ""What a wonderful man he is!" exclaimed Wordsworth. ""Wonderful indeed," said I. "What depth of thought! what richness of expression" continued Wordsworth. "There's nothing like him that ever I heard," rejoined I. (Another pause.) "Pray," inquired Wordsworth, "did you precisely understand what he said about the Kantian philosophy?" "Rogers: "Not precisely." 'Wordsworth : "Or about the plurality of worlds?" "Rogers: "I can't say I did. In fact, if the truth must out, I didn't understand a syllable from one end of his monologue to the other." 'Wordsworth: "No more did I."' Poor Coleridge! They fooled thee to the top of thy bent.' CHAPTER XII. 'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep; A thing we all pursue. I know besides, Beaumont and Fletcher. Wordsworth attends Divine Service at Rydal Chapel for the last time (10th March, 1850)-Is taken ill two days later, and dies in his eighty-first year (23rd April, 1850)-Is interred in Grasmere Churchyard-Inscription on his tombstone-Text of tablet in the church. WE are now approaching the close of our selfappointed task; and but little remains to be added. Wordsworth was now an old man, with long locks of silvery hair; and, like the aged Simeon, he was about to 'depart in peace.' He had been through life blessed with unusually good health, and he had scarcely ever known a day's illness. His chest, however, does not appear to have been very robust, and his writing-desk, he says, was to him 'a place of punishment.' The words of Shakespeare, put into the mouth of |