Pigott used to say, in answer to all questions about his belief, ‘I believe in the Church, as by law established.’ I have never seen Lord B.'s only child, a daughter of fifteen; but I know several of her friends, and I have been told that her situation is lamentable. She has been so sickly always as to have grown up without education or intercourse with the world. Mr. Marshall was gazetted a baronet at the Coronation; but he declined the honor. He told me that he and Lord Fitzwilliam spent fifty-three thousand pounds in preparing to contest the county of Yorkshire; no contest, however, took place. This was in 1824. I can see Helvellyn from the windows of my chamber at Hallstead's.
Keswick, Sept. 8, 1838.my dear Hillard,—I have seen Wordsworth!1 Your interest in this great man, and the contrast which he presents to that master spirit2 I have already described to you, induce me to send these lines immediately on the heels of my last. How odd it seemed to knock at a neighbor's door, and inquire, ‘Where does Mr. Wordsworth live?’ Think of rapping at Westminster Abbey, and asking for Mr. Shakspeare, or Mr. Milton! I found the poet living, as I could have wished, with worldly comfort about him, and without show. His house was not so large or so elegant as to draw the attention from its occupant; and more truly did I enjoy myself, for the short time I was under its roof, than when in the emblazoned halls of Lord Brougham. The house is situated on the avenue leading to Rydal Hall; and the poet may enjoy, as if they were his own, the trees of the park and the ancestral cawing of the rooks that almost darkened the air with their numbers. His house and grounds are pretty and neat; and he was so kind as to attend me in a turn round his garden, pointing out several truly delightful views of the lakes and mountains. I could not but remark to him, however, that the cawing of the rooks was more interesting to me than even the remarkable scenery before us. The house itself is unlike those in which I have been received, lately; and in its whole style reminded me more of home than any thing I have yet seen in England. I took tea with the poet, and, for the first time since I have been in this country, saw a circle round a table at this meal; and, indeed, it was at six o'clock, when always before in England I have been preparing for dinner. I mention these little things, in order to give you a familiar view of Wordsworth. I cannot sufficiently express to you my high gratification at his manner and conversation. It was simple, graceful, and sincere; it had all those things, the absence of which in Brougham gave me so much pain. I felt that I was conversing with a superior being; yet I was entirely