the change, and in rummaging out and arranging some other books in their places. One good thing is this--there is a nice elbow place for Wm., and he may sit for the picture of John Bunyan any day. Mr. Simpson drank tea with us. We paid our rent to Benson.... [Footnote 48: Compare the poem _To the Clouds_, vol. viii. p. 142, and the Fenwick note to that poem.--ED.] [Footnote 49: This still exists, but is known to few.--ED.] _Monday, February 1st._--Wm. slept badly. I baked bread. William worked hard at _The Pedlar_, and tired himself.... There was a purplish light upon Mr. Olliff's house, which made me look to the other side of the vale, when I saw a strange stormy mist coming down the side of Silver How of a reddish purple colour. It soon came on a heavy rain.... A box with books came from London. I sate by W.'s bedside, and read in _The Pleasures of Hope_ to him, which came in the box. He could not fall asleep. _Tuesday, 2nd February._-- ... Wm. went into the orchard after breakfast, to chop wood. We walked into Easedale.... Walked backwards and forwards between Goody Bridge and Butterlip How. William wished to break off composition, but was unable, and so did himself harm. The sun shone, but it was cold. William worked at _The Pedlar_. After tea I read aloud the eleventh book of _Paradise Lost_. We were much impressed, and also melted into tears. The papers came in soon after I had laid aside the book--a good thing for my Wm.... _Wednesday, 3rd._--A rainy morning. We walked to Rydale for letters. Found one from Mrs. Cookson and Mary H. It snowed upon the hills. We sate down on the wall at the foot of White Moss. Sate by the fire in the evening. Wm. tired, and did not compose. He went to bed soon, and could not sleep. I wrote to Mary H. Sent off the letter by Fletcher. Wrote also to Coleridge. Read Wm. to sleep after dinner, and read to him in bed till 1/2 past one. _Thursday, 4th._-- ... Wm. thought a little about _The Pedlar_. Read Smollet's life. _Friday, 5th._--A cold snowy morning. Snow and hail showers. We did not walk. Wm. cut wood a little. Sate up late at _The Pedlar_. _Saturday, 6th February._-- ... Two very affecting letters from Coleridge; resolved to try another climate. I was stopped in my writing, and made ill by the letters.... Wrote again after tea, and translated two or three of Lessing's _Fables_. _Sunday, 7th._--A fine clear frosty morning. The eaves drop with the heat of the sun all day long. The ground thinly covered with snow. The road black, rocks black. Before night the island was quite green. The sun had melted all the snow. Wm. working at his poem. We sate by the fire, and did not walk, but read _The Pedlar_, thinking it done; but W. could find fault with one part of it. It was uninteresting, and must be altered. Poor Wm.!