flowers, and a carpet of moss. Above, at the top of the rock, there is another spot. It is scarce a bower, a little parlour only, not enclosed by walls, but shaped out for a resting-place by the rocks, and the ground rising about it. It had a sweet moss carpet. We resolved to go and plant flowers in both these places to-morrow. We wished for Mary and Sara. Dined late. After dinner Wm. and I worked in the garden. C. received a letter from Sara. [Footnote 60: See _The Waterfall and the Eglantine_, and _The Oak and the Broom_, vol. ii. pp. 170, 174.--ED.] _Saturday, 24th._--A very wet day. William called me out to see a waterfall behind the barberry tree. We walked in the evening to Rydale. Coleridge and I lingered behind. C. stopped up the little runnel by the road-side to make a lake. We all stood to look at Glow-worm Rock--a primrose that grew there, and just looked out on the road from its own sheltered bower.[61] The clouds moved, as William observed, in one regular body like a multitude in motion--a sky all clouds over, not one cloud.[62] On our return it broke a little out, and we saw here and there a star. One appeared but for a moment in a pale blue sky. [Footnote 61: See _The Primrose of the Rock_, vol. vii. p. 274.--ED.] [Footnote 62: Compare _To the Clouds_, vol. viii. p. 142.--ED.] _Sunday, 25th April._--After breakfast we set off with Coleridge towards Keswick. Wilkinson overtook us near the Potter's, and interrupted our discourse. C. got into a gig with Mr. Beck, and drove away from us. A shower came on, but it was soon over. We spent the morning in the orchard reading the _Epithalamium_ of Spenser; walked backwards and forwards.... _Monday, 26th._--I copied Wm.'s poems for Coleridge.... _Tuesday, 27th._--A fine morning. Mrs. Luff called. I walked with her to the boat-house. William met me at the top of the hill with his fishing-rod in his hand. I turned with him, and we sate on the hill looking to Rydale. I left him, intending to join him, but he came home, and said his loins would not stand the pulling he had had. We sate in the orchard. In the evening W. began to write _The Tinker_; we had a letter and verses from Coleridge.