The notion of Wordsworth’s solemnity and sublimity, as something unremitting, was a total mistake.  It probably arose from the want of proportion in his mind, as in his sister’s, before referred to.  But he relished the common business of life, and not only could take in, but originate a joke.  I remember his quizzing a common friend of ours,—­one much esteemed by us all,—­who had a wonderful ability of falling asleep in an instant, when not talking.  Mr. Wordsworth told me of the extreme eagerness of this gentleman, Mrs. Wordsworth, and himself, to see the view over Switzerland from the ridge of the Jura.  Mrs. Wordsworth could not walk so fast as the gentlemen, and her husband let the friend go on by himself.  When they arrived, a minute or two after him, they found him sitting on a stone in face of all Switzerland, fast asleep.  When Mr. Wordsworth mimicked the sleep, with his head on one side, anybody could have told whom he was quizzing.—­He and Mrs. Wordsworth, but too naturally impressed with the mischief of overwalking in the case of women, took up a wholly mistaken notion that I walked too much.  One day I was returning from a circuit of ten miles with a guest, when we met the Wordsworths.  They asked where we had been.  “By Red Bank to Grasmere.”  Whereupon Mr. Wordsworth laid his hand on my guest’s arm, saying, “There, there! take care what you are about! don’t let her lead you about!  I can tell you, she has killed off half the gentlemen in the county!”—­Mrs. Hemans tells us, that, before she had known him many hours, she was saying to him, “Dear me, Mr. Wordsworth! how can you be so giddy?”

His interest in common things never failed.  It has been observed that he and Mrs. Wordsworth did incalculable good by the example they unconsciously set the neighborhood of respectable thrift.  There are no really poor people at Rydal, because the great lady at the Hall, Lady Le Fleming, takes care that there shall be none,—­at the expense of great moral mischief.  But there is a prevalent recklessness, grossness, and mingled extravagance and discomfort in the family management, which, I am told, was far worse when the Wordsworths came than it is now.  Going freely among the neighbors, and welcoming and helping them familiarly, the Wordsworths laid their own lives open to observation; and the mingled carefulness and comfort—­the good thrift, in short—­wrought as a powerful lesson all around.  As for what I myself saw,—­they took a practical interest in my small purchase of land for my abode; and Mr. Wordsworth often came to consult upon the plan and progress of the house.  He used to lie on the grass, beside the young oaks, before the foundations were dug; and he referred me to Mrs. Wordsworth as the best possible authority about the placing of windows and beds.  He climbed to the upper rooms before there was a staircase; and we had to set Mrs. Wordsworth as a watch over him, when there was a staircase, but no balustrade.  When the garden was laid out,