The last subject he touched on was the international copyright question—­the absence of protection in our country to the works of foreign authors.  He said, mildly, that he thought it would be better for us if some acknowledgment, however small, was made.  The fame of his own writings, as far as it was of pecuniary advantage to him, he had long regarded with indifference; happily, he had an income more than sufficient for all his wants....  He remarked, he had once seen a volume of his poems published in an American newspaper.

I happened to have in my pocket the small volume of selections, which you made some years ago.  I produced it, and asked at the same time if he had ever seen it.  He replied he had not.  He took it with evident interest, turned to the title-page, which he read, with its motto.  He began the preface then, in the same way.  But here I must record a trifling incident, which may yet be worth noting.  We were standing together in the road, Wordsworth reading aloud, as I have said, when a man accosted us asking charity—­a beggar of the better class.  Wordsworth, scarcely looking off the book, thrust his hands into his pockets, as if instinctively acknowledging the man’s right to beg by this prompt action.  He seemed to find nothing, however; and he said, in a sort of soliloquy, ‘I have given to four or five, already, to-day,’ as if to account for his being then unprovided.

Wordsworth, as he turned over one leaf after another, said, ’But I shall weary you, sir.’  ‘By no means,’ said I; for I could have been content to stand there for hours to hear, as I did, the Poet read from time to time, with fitting emphasis, the choice passages which your preface and biographical sketch contain.  Imagine with what delight I listened to the venerable man, and to hear, too, from his own lips, such words as these, your own most true reflection:  ’His has been a life devoted to the cultivation of the poet’s art for its best and most lasting uses—­a self-dedication as complete as the world has ever witnessed.’  Your remark with regard to his having outlived many of his contemporaries among the poets, he read with affecting simplicity; his manner being that of one who looked backward to the past with entire tranquillity, and forward with sure hope.  I felt that his honoured life was drawing rapidly to a close, and with him there was evidently the same consciousness.

He made but little comment on your notice of him.  Occasionally he would say, as he came to a particular fact, ‘That’s quite correct;’ or, after reading a quotation from his own works, he would add, ’That’s from my writings.’  These quotations he read in a way that much impressed me; it seemed almost as if he was awed by the greatness of his own power, the gifts with which he had been endowed.  It was a solemn time to me, this part of my interview; and to you, my friend, it would have been a crowning happiness to stand, as I did, by his