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If there is commotion from gusts or eddies of wind, the
effect is even more remarkable. Little white clouds are
driven against the rocks,- the spray is spilled in
unexpected places; now the precipices are wholly veiled, and
there is nothing but the ruffled water to be seen: and
again, in an instant, the rocks are disclosed so fearfully
that they seem to be crowding together to crush the
intruder. If this seems to the inexperienced like
extravagance, let him go alone to Easedale Tarn, or to Angle
Tarn on Bowfell, on a gusty day, and see what he will find.
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After his return to the Red Lion, and his dinner, the
stranger will go to the churchyard. In the church is a
medallion portrait of Wordsworth, accompanied by an
inscription adapted from a dedication of Mr. Keble's. The
simple and modest tombstone in the churchyard will please
him better. At present it bears only the name of the poet,-
in his case, an all-sufficient memorial: but it is
understood that some dates and other particulars will be
filled in hereafter. Beside him lies his only daughter, and
next to her, her husband,- whose first wife is next him on
the other side. Some other children of Wordsworth, who died
young, are buried near; and one grandchild. Close behind the
family group lies Hartley Coleridge, at whose funeral the
white-haired Wordsworth attended, not very long before his
own death. This spot, under the yews, besides the gushing
Rothay and encircled by green mountains, is a fitting
resting-place for the poet of the region. He chose it
himself; and every one rejoices that he did.
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