464. Liberty. [III.]

    ’Life’s book for thee may be unclosed, till age
    Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page.’

There is now, alas! no possibility of the anticipation, with which the above Epistle concludes, being realised:  nor were the verses ever seen by the Individual for whom they were intended.  She accompanied her husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore to Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her.

Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of life to which she had been called.  The opinion she entertained of her own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury, was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits; as is often the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to discover what they are best fitted for.  In one quality, viz., quickness in the motions of her mind, she had, within the range of the Author’s acquaintance, no equal.

465. Poor Robin. [IV.]

The small wild Geranium known by that name.

466. *_Ibid._

I often ask myself what will become of Rydal Mount after our day.  Will the old walls and steps remain in front of the house and about the grounds, or will they be swept away with all the beautiful mosses and ferns and wild geraniums and other flowers which their rude construction suffered and encouraged to grow among them?  This little wild flower, ‘Poor Robin,’ is here constantly courting my attention and exciting what may be called a domestic interest with the varying aspects of its stalks and leaves and flowers.  Strangely do the tastes of men differ, according to their employment and habits of life.  ’What a nice well would that be,’ said a labouring man to me one day, ’if all that rubbish was cleared off.’  The ‘rubbish’ was some of the most beautiful mosses and lichens and ferns and other wild growths, as could possibly be seen.  Defend us from the tyranny of trimness and neatness, showing itself in this way!  Chatterton says of Freedom, ’Upon her head wild weeds were spread,’ and depend upon it, if ‘the marvellous boy’ had undertaken to give Flora a garland, he would have preferred what we are apt to call weeds to garden-flowers.  True taste has an eye for both.  Weeds have been called flowers out of place.  I fear the place most people would assign to them is too limited.  Let them come near to our abodes, as surely they may without impropriety or disorder.

467. *_To the Lady le Fleming_. [IX.]