e poor of her native city, an assiduous visitor of the
jails, a saintly benefactress to all the unhappy whom her charities
could reach--drawn to him by a strong interest of respect and pity,
gave him a home in her house, and supplied him with congenial
employment. Pellico gratefully appreciated her goodness to him, and
deeply reverenced her worth. In works of religion and beneficence
their lives moved on. He began to write a memoir of his friend; but
left it, a fragment, when his lingering consumption brought him to
the grave. The pious friendship of the Marchioness did not end with
his death. On his tomb, in the Campo Santo, at Turin, she placed a
column surmounted by a marble bust, and inscribed with this epitaph
from her own pen:

Under the weight of the cross
He learned the way to heaven.
Christians pray for him, And follow him.

The pathetic life, the gentle sweetness of spirit, the mournful end
of Silvio Pellico, are well known to all. The Marchioness di Barolo,
whose name is linked to his in the memory of so pure and benign a
union of friendship, lived the life, died the death, and bequeathed
the renown of a saint.

She said, "It is a great suffering to have done all in your power for
a person, and to find only ingratitude in return. There is no anger
in this suffering, nor does it necessarily destroy affection; but the
wound is buried deep in the heart; and if it has been inflicted by
one very dearly loved, no human consolation can heal it. The most
profitable education persons receive is the one they give themselves,
through the love of God and labors of charity. I was a great deal
alone in my youth, and I am sure it was good for me."

Wordsworth's affection for persons, not less than for nature, was
remarkable for its tenacity, the perseverance with which his
attention returned to it, and for the deep, clear consciousness with
which he cherished it. The most beloved of his lady friends was
Isabel Fenwick, who was a frequent visitor at Rydal Mount during the
last twenty years of his life. She wrote, to his dictation, the
autobiographical notes used in the memoir of him. Her admiring and
devoted friendship was evidently a strong inspiration and precious
solace to him. It was for her sake that he built the Level Terrace,
on which he paced to and fro for many an hour, in sight of the valley
of the Rothay and the banks of Lake Windermere. Not many finer
expressions of sentiment are to be found in our tongue t