preserve a high esteem, and to whom I cannot but regret my inability to offer a more worthy tribute. The last town through which we passed, in our way back to Göttingen, was Osterode; built of brick, and one of the largest in the Harz. Here Blumenbach left us, in order to pay his respects to an Amptman in the neighbourhood; and no sooner had he turned his back upon us, than we began to express our opinion, that to spare himself the trouble and delay of revisiting a spot already familiar to him, he had purposely avoided taking us to see a very remarkable rock not far from Osterode, of which we happened to have read a splendid description in some almanack. It was fully admitted by us all, that we were under much obligation to him for what he had shown us, but the HübichenStein was a great omission, and we continued to pay him compliments respecting it, which it was quite as well for him not to overhear; although on his rejoining us, by dint of fast walking, he probably discovered that the said Stein had been no very pleasant topic of conversation in his absence. We contrived, however, to arrive, good friends and in good season, at Göttingen, Saturday, May 18th, 1799; and, after drinking tea with Coleridge, a very unusual honour--for he usually drank tea with some of us-we retired early to our beds, and cancelled, by a long night's rest, our arrears with Morpheus. Whether we dreamt about the Hübichen-Stein, I do not know; but we were so provoked at not having seen it, that, a few days after our return from the Harz, Coleridge, the two Parrys, and myself, determined to pay it a visit; and were well rewarded for our trouble in so doing. We found it to be an isolated coral rock, of a singularly striking character, smaller at the base than at the summit, of a white colour, except where covered with moss, and towering far above the lofty fir woods with which it stands surrounded. Of these woods, we were informed, that in 1783, not less than 472,000 firs were supposed to have been destroyed by the Dermestes Typographus, an insect of about the size of a bug, which confines its ravages to the white fir (pinus abies). It is said that the ravages of these insects were greatly increased by an unfortunate mistake made in offering a reward for the destruction of the wood-peckers, which their presence had attracted in vast numbers, and who were busily employed in their destruction. A useful lesson for the destroyers of rooks in our own country! The view which we commanded from the HübichenStein delighted us, and whilst we were contemplating its beauty and grandeur, observed," that the charms of nature were relished by man alone; no other animal, however great its sagacity, appearing to feel any pleasure from lakes, or forests, or mountains. True, replied Coleridge, and yet how short lived is man, for whose pleasure and benefit these, as far as we see, are in great measure formed! Eightyfour years is almost his farthest limit, whilst the rocks and mountains are, many of them, undoubtedly pre-Adamitical. Hence he drew an argument for the immortality of the soul; since, that being admitted, the means will be no more than adequate to the end. Coleridge was in good spirits, very amusing, and as talkative as ever, throughout this little excursion. He frequently recited his own poetry, and not unfrequently led us rather farther into the labyrinth of his metaphysical elucidations, either of particular passages, or of the original conception of any of his productions, than we were able to follow him. ""Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And hark again! The crowing cock, At the conclusion of this, the first stanza of Christabel, he would perhaps comment at full length upon such a line as Tu whit!-Tu whoo! that we might not fall into the mistake of supposing originality to be its sole merit. In fact, he very seldom went right on to the end of any piece of poetry-to pause and analyze was his delight. What he told his fellow travellers respecting Christabel, he has since repeated in print, in words which, if not the very same, are equally Coleridgian.* "In my very first conception of the tale," he says, "I had the whole present to my mind, with the wholeness no less than the loveliness of a vision," all of which he trusted he should some day be able to "embody in verse;" but this day, I believe, came not, for it does not appear that he got beyond two, out of the four parts which he contemplated. The poem of "Christabel" was composed, he has somewhere recorded, "in consequence of an agreement with Wordsworth, that they should mutually * In a late publication, "Letters, Conversations, and Recollections of S. T. Coleridge," anonymous, but evidently genuine, we find him in one place expressing a hope that he might some day complete "Christabel;" for that if he were but easy in mind, he had no doubt of the re-awakening power or of the kindling inclination. In another place he says, "Of my poetic works, I would fain finish the Christabel ;" "If I should finish Christabel (he further adds), I shall certainly extend it, and give new characters, and a greater number of incidents. This the 'reading public' require, and this is the reason that Sir Walter Scott's poems, though so loosely written, are pleasing, and interest us by their picturesqueness. "If a genial recurrence of the ray divine should occur for a few weeks, I shall certainly attempt it. I had the whole of the two cantos in my mind before I began it; certainly the first canto is more perfect, has more of the true wild weird spirit than the last. I laughed heartily at the continuation in Blackwood, which I have been told is by Maginn; it is in appearance, and in appearance only, a good imitation; I do not doubt that it gave more pleasure, and to a greater number, than a continuation by myself in the spirit of the first two cantos. "The Ancient Mariner' cannot be imitated, nor the poem 'Love'. They may be excelled; they are not imitable." produce specimens of poetry," which should contain the power of exciting the sympathy of the readers, by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colours of imagination. The sudden charm which accidents of light and shade, which moon-light or sun-set, diffused over a known and familiar landscape, appeared to represent the practicability of combining both; and that a series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one, the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural; and the excellence to be aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real, &c. For the second class, subjects were to be chosen from real life." Thus, it appears, originated the poems of "Cristabel," and the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner," of Coleridge, and the " Lyrical Ballads" of Wordsworth. I must candidly confess, that in discussing the merits of the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner," it did happen that "There pass'd a weary time," or something very like it, for I was unable to follow him to my certain satisfaction either in the verse or the accompanying colloquy, and yet "Day after day-Day after day," |