eings to whom my intellect is most indebted,
and they are now proceeding, as it were, _pari passu_, along the path of
sickness, I will not say towards the grave, but I trust towards a
blessed immortality.

It was not my intention to write so seriously: my heart is full, and you
must excuse it.

You do not tell me how you like Cambridge as a place, nor what you
thought of its buildings and other works of art. Did you not see Oxford
as well? Surely you would not lose the opportunity; it has greatly the
advantage over Cambridge in its happy intermixture of streets,
churches, and collegiate buildings.

I hope you found time when in London to visit the British Museum.

A fortnight ago I came hither to my son and daughter, who are living a
gentle, happy, quiet, and useful life together. My daughter Dora is also
with us. On this day I should have returned, but an inflammation in my
eyes makes it unsafe for me to venture in an open carriage, the weather
being exceedingly disturbed.

A week ago appeared here Mr. W.S. Landor, the Poet, and author of the
_Imaginary Conversations_, which probably have fallen in your way. We
had never met before, tho' several letters had passed between us; and as
I had not heard that he was in England, my gratification in seeing him
was heightened by surprise. We passed a day together at the house of my
friend Mr. Rawson, on the banks of Wastwater. His conversation is lively
and original; his learning great, tho' he will not allow it, and his
laugh the heartiest I have heard of a long time. It is not much less
than twenty years since he left England for France, and afterwards
Italy, where he hopes to end his days, nay [he has] fixed near Florence
upon the spot where he wishes to be buried. Remember me most kindly to
your sisters. Dora begs her love and thanks to your sister Eliza for her
last most interesting letter, which she will answer when she can command
a frank.

Ever faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[128]

[Postscript added on first page:] I have desired Messrs. Longman to put
aside for you a copy of the new edition of my poems, compressed into
four vols. It contains nothing but what has before seen the light, but
several poems which were not in the last. Pray direct your Dublin
publisher to apply for it.

[128] _Memoirs_, ii. 260, with important additions from the original.
G.

81. '_Remains of Lucretia Davidson:' Public Events: Miss J