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Updated: June 24, 2025
Of late, if I have felt moved by anything it has been by the grand lamentations of Samson Agonistes, or the great harmonies of the Satanic speeches in Paradise Regained, when read aloud by myself. A young lady sometimes comes and drinks tea with us: at her request and M.'s, I now and then read W-'s poems to them.
I went out and saw the unmistakable north-west clouds tearing away in front of the moon. I remembered Mrs. W-'s corns, and anathematised them in my heart. It may be imagined that I turned out of a comfortable bed, slipped on my boots, and then went out; no such thing: we were all lying in our clothes with one blanket between us and the bare floor our heads pillowed on our saddle-bags.
"What do you ask for this horse?" said he of the green coat, winking at me with the eye which had a beam in it, whilst the other shone and sparkled like Mrs. Colonel W-'s Golconda diamond. "Who are you, sir, I demand once more?" said he of the hungry look.
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