. Fermor. This lady had been a widow long before I knew her. Her
husband was of the family of the lady celebrated in the 'Rape of the
Lock,' and was, I believe, a Roman Catholic. The sorrow which his death
caused her was fearful in its character, as described in this Poem, but
was subdued in course of time by the strength of her religious faith. I
have been for many weeks at a time an inmate with her at Coleorton Hall,
as were also Mary and my sister. The truth in the sketch of her
character here given was acknowledged with gratitude by her nearest
relatives. She was eloquent in conversation, energetic upon public
matters, open in respect to these, but slow to communicate her personal
feelings. Upon these she never touched in her intercourse with me, so
that I could not regard myself as her confidential friend, and was
accordingly surprised when I learnt she had left me a legacy of 100_l._
as a token of her esteem. See in further illustration, the second stanza
inscribed upon her cenotaph in Coleorton Church.

507. *_Elegiac Musings in the Grounds of Coleorton Hall_.[XIII.]

These verses were in fact composed on horseback during a storm, whilst I
was on my way from Coleorton to Cambridge. They are alluded to
elsewhere. [Intercalated by Mrs. Quillinan--My father was on my pony,
which he rode all the way from Rydal to Cambridge that I might have the
comfort and pleasure of a horse at Cambridge. The storm of wind and rain
on this day was so violent that the coach in which my mother and I
travelled, the same coach, was all but blown over, and had the coachman
drawn up as he attempted to do at one of his halting-places, we must
have been upset. My father and his pony were several times actually
blown out of the road. D.Q.]

508. _Charles Lamb_. [XIV.]

From the most gentle creature nursed in fields.

This way of indicating the _name_ of my lamented friend has been found
fault with; perhaps rightly so; but I may say in justification of the
double sense of the word, that similar allusions are not uncommon in
epitaphs. One of the best in our language in verse I ever read, was upon
a person who bore the name of Palmer; and the course of the thought,
throughout, turned upon the Life of the Departed, considered as a
pilgrimage. Nor can I think that the objection in the present case will
have much force with any one who remembers Charles Lamb's beautiful
sonnet addressed to his own name, and ending--

'No deed of