Professor Wilson; and, from two hearts at least, that knew and admired you in your fervid prime, it may sometimes cheer the gloom of your depression to be assured of never-failing remembrance, full of love and respectful pity.[126] [125] Mrs. Johnstone (1781-1857) was the authoress of several novels, a contributor to various periodicals, and editor of _Tait's Magazine_ through a portion at least of De Quincey's connexion with it.--M. [126] In the recast by De Quincey, for the collective edition of his writings in 1853, of his _Tait_ articles on Wordsworth in 1839, there were some omissions of matter that had appeared in the magazine. One was this concluding paragraph in the article for April 1839:--"I have traced the history of each [_i.e._ of William and Dorothy Wordsworth] until the time when I became personally acquainted with them; and, henceforwards, anything which it may be interesting to know with respect to either will naturally come forward, not in a separate narrative, but in connexion with my own life; for in the following year I became myself the tenant of that pretty cottage in which I found them; and from that time, for many years, my life flowed on in daily union with theirs."--M. CHAPTER IV THE LAKE POETS: WILLIAM WORDSWORTH AND ROBERT SOUTHEY[127] [127] From _Tait's Magazine_ for July 1839. See explanation in Editor's Preface to this volume.--M. That night--the first of my personal intercourse with Wordsworth--the first in which I saw him face to face--was (it is little, indeed, to say) memorable: it was marked by a change even in the physical condition of my nervous system. Long disappointment--hope for ever baffled (and why should it be less painful because _self_-baffled?)--vexation and self-blame, almost self-contempt, at my own want of courage to face the man whom of all since the Flood I most yearned to behold:--these feelings had impressed upon my nervous sensibilities a character of irritation--agitation--restlessness--eternal self-dissatisfaction--which were gradually gathering into a distinct, well-defined type, that would, but for youth--almighty youth, and the spirit of youth--have shaped itself into some nervous complaint, wearing symptoms _sui generis_ (for most nervous complaints, in minds that are at all eccentric, will be _sui generis_); and, perhaps, finally, have been immortalized in some medical journal as the anomalous malady of an interesting young gentleman, aged twenty-two, who was supposed to have studied too severely, and to have perplexed his brain with German metaphysics. To this result things tended; but, in one hour, all passed away. It was gone, never to return. The spiritual being whom I had anticipated--for, like Eloisa, "My fancy framed him of the angelic kind, Some emanation of the all-beauteous mind"--