“And in the frosty season, when the sun Was set, and visible for many a mile The cottage windows blazed thro’ twilight gloom, I heeded not their summons; happy time It was, indeed, for all of us--for me, It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud, The village clock struck six--I wheeled about, Proud and exulting, like an untired horse, That cares not for his home. All shod with steel We hissed along the polished ice in games Confederate, imitative of the chase, And woodland pleasures--the resounding horn, The pack loud chiming, and the hunted hare. So thro’ the darkness and the cold we flew, And not a voice was idle; with the din Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; The leafless trees, and every icy crag, Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills Into the tumult sent an awful sound Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west The orange sky of evening died away. Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sportively Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng To cut across the reflex of a star, That fled, and flying still before me, gleamed Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had rolled, With visible motion, her diurnal round! Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched, Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.” And with this famous skating passage--the finest realization of the kind in poetry, I will conclude this outline of the poet’s school-days and mental history. CAMBRIDGE. It was in October, 1787, that Wordsworth was sent to St. John’s College, Cambridge, by his uncles, Richard Wordsworth, and Christopher Crackanthorpe, under whose care his three brothers and his sister were placed on the death of their father, in 1795. The orphans were at this time nearly, if not entirely, dependent upon their relatives, in consequence of the stubborn refusal of the wilful, if not mad, Sir James Lowther, to settle the claims of their father upon his estate.