We drank tea the night before I left Grasmere, on the island in that lovely lake; our kettle swung over the fire, hanging from the branch of a fir-tree, and I lay and saw the woods, and mountains, and lake all trembling, and as it were idealized through the suble smoke, which rose up from the clear, red embers of the fir-apples which we had collected: afterwards we made a glorious bonfire on the margin, by some elder bushes, whose twigs heaved and sobbed in the uprushing column of smoke, and the image of the bonfire, and of us that danced round it, ruddy, laughing faces in the twilight; the image of this in a lake, smooth as that sea, to whose waves the Son of God had said, "Peace!" May God, and all his sons, love you as I do. S. T. COLERIDGE. Sara desires her kind remembrances. Hartley is a spirit that dances on an aspen leaf; the air that yonder sallowfaced and yawning tourist is breathing, is to my babe a perpetual nitrous oxide. Never was more joyous creature born. Pain with him is so wholly transubstantiated by the joys that had rolled on before, and rushed on after, that oftentimes five minutes after his mother has whipt him, he has gone up and asked her to whip him again.[2] [Footnote 1: "Ne sutor ultra crepidam."] [Footnote 2: Letter CX follows No. 94.] Coleridge was now as enamoured of the Lake District as he had been of Stowey. On 22nd September he wrote to Godwin. LETTER 95. TO GODWIN Monday, Sept. 22, 1800. Dear Godwin, I received your letter, and with it the enclosed note,[1] which shall be punctually re-delivered to you on the first of October.