He would entice that other man to hear
     His music, and to view his imagery. 
     And, sooth, these two did love each other dear,
     As far as love in such a place could be;
     There did they dwell—­from earthly labour free,
     As happy spirits as were ever seen: 
     If but a bird, to keep them company,
     Or butterfly sate down, they were, I ween,
     As pleased as if the same had been a maiden queen.

“That’s the true stuff, Wilks, and has the right ring in it, for we love each other dear, and are as happy spirits as were ever seen, but not a large grey eye, pale face, or low-hung lip between us.  Just hear my music now, and view my imagery with your mind’s eye:—­

     Far down the ridge, I see the Grinstun man,
     Full short in stature and rotund is he,
     Pale grey his watery orbs, that dare not scan
     His interlocutor, and his goatee,
     With hair and whiskers like a furnace be: 
     Concave the mouth from which his nose-tip flies
     In vain attempt to shun vulgarity. 
     O haste, ye gods, to snatch from him the prize,
     And send him hence to weep—­and to geologize!”

“The rhythm is all right, Corry, and the rhyme, but I hope you do not call that poetry?”

“If that isn’t superior to a good many of Wordsworth’s verses, Wilks, I’ll eat my hat, and that would be a pity this hot weather.  Confess now, you haythen, you,” cried the lawyer, making a lunge at his companion with his stick, which the latter warded off with his book.

“There are some pretty poor ones,” the schoolmaster granted grudgingly, “but the work of a great poet should not be judged by fragments.”

“Wilks, apply the rule; I have only given you one stanza of the unfinished epic, which unborn generations will peruse with admiration and awe, ’The Grinstun Quarry Restored’:—­

     I have striven hard for my high reward
     Through many a changing year
     Now, the goal I reach; it is mine to teach. 
     Stand still, O man, and hear!

     I shall wreathe my name, with the brightness of fame,
     To shine upon history’s pages;
     It shall be a gem in the diadem
     Of the past to future ages!

Oh, Wilks for immortality!” cried the light-hearted lawyer, rising with a laugh.

Looking back towards the ascent, he perceived two bowed figures struggling up the hill under largish, and, apparently, not very light burdens.

“Wilks, my dear, we’re young and vigorous, and down there are two poor old grannies laden like pack mules in this broiling sun.  Let us leave our knapsacks here, and give them a hoist.”