not, as
in this case, apparently worn out. The body gradually grew weaker, and
disorders appeared which the state of the patient rendered it almost
impossible to treat properly; and, after a short attack of fever, the
scene closed on the 21st of March, 1843, and a second time had we cause
to feel deeply thankful, when the change from life to death, or more
truly from death to life, took place.

It was a dark and stormy morning when he was borne to his last
resting-place, at the western end of the beautiful church-yard of
Crosthwaite. There lies his dear son Herbert--there his daughters Emma
and Isabel--there Edith, his faithful helpmate of forty years. But few
besides his own family and immediate neighbors followed his remains. His
only intimate friend within reach, Mr. Wordsworth, crossed the hills
that wild morning to be present.

Soon after my father's death, various steps were taken with a view to
erecting monuments to his memory; and considerable sums were quickly
subscribed for that purpose, the list including the names of many
persons, not only strangers to him personally, but also strongly opposed
to him in political opinion. The result was that three memorials were
erected. The first and principal one, a full length recumbent figure,
was executed by Lough, and placed in Crosthwaite church, and is
certainly an excellent likeness, as well as a most beautiful work of
art. The original intention and agreement was, that it should be in Caen
stone, but the sculptor, with characteristic liberality, executed it in
white marble, at a considerable sacrifice.

[Illustration: SOUTHEY'S TOMB.]

The following lines, by Mr. Wordsworth, are inscribed upon the base:

"Ye vales and hills, whose beauty hither drew
The poet's steps, and fixed him here; on you
His eyes have closed; and ye loved books, no more
Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore,
To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown
Adding immortal labors of his own--
Whether he traced historic truth with zeal
For the state's guidance or the church's weal,
Or fancy disciplined by curious art
Informed his pen, or wisdom of the heart,
Or judgments sanctioned in the patriot's mind
By reverence for the rights of all mankind.
Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast
Could private feelings meet in holier rest.
His joys--his griefs--have vanished like a cloud
From Skiddaw's top; but he to Heaven was vowed
Thr