The following touching episodal extract is from Dr. Southey's _Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society:_--The best general view of Derwentwater is from the terrace, between Applethwaite and Milbeck, a little beyond the former hamlet. The old roofs and chimneys of that hamlet come finely in the foreground, and the trees upon the Ornathwaite estate give there a richness to the middle ground, which is wanting in other parts of the vale. From that spot I once saw three artists sketching it at the same time--William Westall (who has engraved it among his admirable views of Keswick,) Glover, and Edward Nash, my dear, kind-hearted friend and fellow-traveller, whose death has darkened some of the blithest recollections of my latter life. I know not from which of the surrounding heights it is seen to most advantage; any one will amply repay the labour of the ascent; and often as I have ascended them all, it has never been without a fresh delight. The best near view is from a field adjoining Friar's Craig. There it is that, if I had Aladdin's lamp, or Fortunatus's purse (with leave of Greenwich Hospital be it spoken,) I would build myself a house. Thither I had strolled, on one of those first genial days of spring which seem to affect the animal not less than the vegetable creation. At such times even I, sedentary as I am, feel a craving for the open air and sunshine, and creep out as instinctively as snails after a shower. Such seasons, which have an exhilarating effect upon youth, produce a soothing one when we are advanced in life. The root of an ash tree, on the bank which bends round the little bay, had been half bared by the waters during one of the winter floods, and afforded a commodious resting-place, whereon I took my seat, at once basking in the sun and bathing, as it were, in the vernal breeze. But delightful as all about me was to eye, and ear, and feeling, it brought with it a natural reflection, that the scene which I now beheld was the same which it had been and would continue to be, while so many of those with whom I had formerly enjoyed it, were past away. Our day-dreams become retrospective as we advance in years; and the heart feeds as naturally upon remembrance in age as upon hope in youth. "Where are they gone, the old familiar faces?" I thought of her, whom I had so often seen plying her little skiff upon that glassy water, the lady of the lake. It was like a poet's dream, or a vision of romance, to behold her--and like a vision or a dream she had departed! "O gentle Emma, o'er a lovelier form Than thine, earth never closed; nor e'er did heaven Receive a purer spirit from the world!"