of time, although sure of eventual success, elapsed before he could boast
of victory. The battle has been perilous. When the "Excursion" was
published (in 1814), Lamb wrote a review of it for "The Quarterly Review."
Whatever might have been the actual fitness of this performance, it seems
to have been hacked to pieces; more than a third of the substance cut
away; the warm expressions converted into cold ones; and (in Lamb's
phrase) "the eyes pulled out and the bleeding sockets left." This mangling
(or amendment, as I suppose it was considered) was the work of the late
Mr. Gifford. Charles had a great admiration for Wordsworth. It was short
of prostration, however. He states that the style of "Peter Bell" does not
satisfy him; but "'Hartleap Well' is the tale for me," are his words in
1819.

I have a vivid recollection of Wordsworth, who was a very grave man, with
strong features and a deep voice. I met him first at the chambers (they
were in the Temple) of Mr. Henry Crabb Robinson, one of the most amiable
of men. I was a young versifier, and Wordsworth was just emerging out of a
cloud of ignorant contumely into the sunrise of his fame. He was fond
(perhaps too fond) of reciting his own poetry before friends and
strangers. I was not attracted by his manner, which was almost too solemn,
but I was deeply impressed by some of the weighty notes in his voice, when
he was delivering out his oracles. I forget whether it was "Dion" or the
beautiful poem of "Laodamia" that he read; but I remembered the reading
long afterwards, as one recollects the roll of the spent thunder.

I met Wordsworth occasionally, afterwards, at Charles Lamb's, at Mr.
Rogers's, and elsewhere, and once he did me the honor to call upon me. I
remember that he had a very gentle aspect when he looked at my children.
He took the hand of my dear daughter (who died lately) in his hand, and
spoke some words to her, the recollection of which, perhaps, helped, with