spake
Was walking by her native Lake;
The salutation was to me
The very sound of courtesy;
Its power was felt, and while my eye
Was fix'd upon the glowing sky,
The echo of the voice enwrought
A human sweetness with the thought
Of travelling through the world that lay
Before me in my endless way.

We went up to the door of our boatman's hut as to a home, and scarcely
less confident of a cordial welcome than if we had been approaching our
own cottage at Grasmere. It had been a very pleasing thought, while we
were walking by the side of the beautiful lake, that, few hours as we had
been there, there was a home for us in one of its quiet dwellings.
Accordingly, so we found it; the good woman, who had been at a preaching
by the lake-side, was in her holiday dress at the door, and seemed to be
rejoiced at the sight of us. She led us into the hut in haste to supply
our wants; we took once more a refreshing meal by her fireside, and,
though not so merry as the last time, we were not less happy, bating our
regrets that Coleridge was not in his old place. I slept in the same bed
as before, and listened to the household stream, which now only made a
very low murmuring.

* * * * *

_Monday_, _September_ 12_th_.--Rejoiced in the morning to see the sun
shining upon the hills when I first looked out through the open
window-place at my bed's head. We rose early, and after breakfast, our
old companion, who was to be our guide for the day, rowed us over the
water to the same point where Coleridge and I had sate down and eaten our
dinner, while William had gone to survey the unknown coast. We intended
to cross Loch Lomond, follow the lake to Glenfalloch, above the head of
it, and then come over the mountains to Glengyle, and so down the glen,
and passing Mr. Macfarlane's house, back again to the ferry-house, where
we should sleep. So, a third time we went through the mountain hollow,
now familiar ground. The inhabitants had not yet got in all their hay,
and were at work in the fields; our guide often stopped to talk with
them, and no doubt was called upon to answer many inquiries respecting us
two strangers.

At the ferry-house of Inversneyde we had not the happy sight of the
Highland girl and her companion, but the good woman received us
cordially, gave me milk, and talked of Coleridge, who, the morning after
we parted from him, had been at her house to fetch his