ty, genius,
spirituality, and melancholy. He says of those years, "I grew up with
my sister Lucile: our friendship constituted the whole of our lives."
"Her thoughts were all sentiments." "Her elegance, sweetness,
imaginativeness, and impassioned sensibility, presented a combination
of Greek and German genius." "Our principal recreation consisted in
walking, side by side, on the great Mall: in spring, on a carpet of
primroses; in autumn, on beds of withered foliage; in winter, on a
covering of snow. Young like the primroses, sad like the dry leaves,
and pure as the new-fallen snow, there was a harmony between our
recreations and ourselves." Lucile first persuaded her brother to
write. Afterwards he says, "We undertook works in common: we passed
days in mutual consultation, in communicating to each other what we
had done, and what we purposed to do." The lamentation he breathed
over her grave, when she died, is one of the most affecting passages
in his long autobiography.

Ernst and Charlotte Schleiermacher were a choice and ever-faithful
pair of friends. The published life and letters of the great preacher
reveal the full beauty and importance of this relation. Their
correspondence is filled equally with the manifestations of varied
intelligence and of congenial feeling. Sharing all their experience
in affectionate intercourse, or in full and cordial letters, they
appeared thus to find their pleasures heightened, their perplexities
cleared, their trials alleviated. To this noble divine, so celebrated
for his profound scholarship, his enthusiastic piety, his exalted
sensibility, and his heroic aims, Charlotte was knit by affinities of
character and life, even more closely than by those of blood and
name.

The souls and experiences of William and Dorothy Wordsworth were
overwrought with singular felicity and entireness. Readers will long
trace the signals of this friendship in his works the record of it in
his nephew's memoir of him with pleased surprise, and dwell on its
lessons with thoughtful gratitude. Dorothy, not quite two years
younger than William, was gifted like him, fraught with a similar
temper of patient tenderness, and bound up with him in the same
bundle of life. How thoroughly she lived in him is betrayed, with a
naive simplicity altogether charming, in her published notes of the
tour they made in Scotland. His appreciation of her worth, and his
affectionate sense of indebtedness to her, find many memor