This poem opened, when first written, with a paragraph that has 
      been transferred as an introduction to the first series of my 
      Scotch Memorials. The journey, of which the first part is here 
      described, was from Grasmere to Bootle on the south-west coast of 
      Cumberland, the whole among mountain roads through a beautiful 
      country; and we had fine weather. The verses end with our 
      breakfast at the head of Yewdale in a yeoman's house, which, like 
      all the other property in that sequestered vale, has passed or is 
      passing into the hands of Mr. James Marshall of Monk Coniston,--in 
      Mr. Knott's, the late owner's, time called Waterhead. Our hostess 
      married a Mr. Oldfield, a lieutenant in the Navy: they lived 
      together for some time at Hacket, where she still resides as his 
      widow. It was in front of that house, on the mountain side, near 
      which stood the peasant who, while we were passing at a distance, 
      saluted us, waving a kerchief in her hand as described in the 
      poem. (This matron and her husband were then residing at the 
      Hacket. The house and its inmates are referred to in the fifth 
      book of the "Excursion," in the passage beginning--
<pre>
                                      "You behold,
             High on the breast of yon dark mountain, dark
             With stony barrenness, a shining speck."--J. C.)
</pre>
      The dog which we met with soon after our starting belonged to Mr. 
      Rowlandson, who for forty years was curate of Grasmere in place of 
      the rector, who lived to extreme old age in a state of insanity. 
      Of this Mr. R. much might be said both with reference to his 
      character, and the way in which he was regarded by his 
      parishioners. He was a man of a robust frame, had a firm voice and 
      authoritative manner, of strong natural talents, of which he was 
      himself conscious, for he has been heard to say (it grieves me to 
      add) with an oath--"If I had been brought up at college I should 
      have been a bishop." Two vices used to struggle in him for 
      mastery, avarice and the love of strong drink: but avarice, as is 
      common in like cases, always got the better of its opponent; for, 
      though he was often intoxicated, it was never, I believe, at his 
      own expense. As has been said of one in a more exalted station, he 
      would take any 'given' quantity. I have heard a story of him which 
      is worth the telling. One summer's morning, our Grasmere curate, 
      after a night's carouse in the vale of Langdale, on his return 
      home, having reached a point near which the whole of the vale of 
      Grasmere might be seen with the lake immediately below him, 
      stepped aside and sat down on the turf. After looking for some 
      time at the landscape, then in the perfection of its morning 
      beauty, he exclaimed--"Good God, that I should have led so long 
      such a life in such a place!"--This no doubt was deeply felt by 
      him at the time, but I am not authorised to say that any 
      noticeable amendment followed. Penuriousness strengthened upon him 
      as his body grew feebler with age. He had purchased property and 
      kept some land in his own hands, but he could not find in his 
      heart to lay out the necessary hire for labourers at the proper 
      season, and consequently he has often been seen in half-dotage 
      working his hay in the month of November by moonlight, a 
      melancholy sight which I myself have witnessed. Notwithstanding 
      all that has been said, this man, on account of his talents and 
      superior education, was looked up to by his parishioners, who, 
      without a single exception, lived at that time (and most of them 
      upon their own small inheritances) in a state of republican 
      equality, a condition favourable to the growth of kindly feelings 
      among them, and in a striking degree exclusive to temptations to 
      gross vice and scandalous behaviour. As a pastor their curate did 
      little or nothing for them; but what could more strikingly set 
      forth the efficacy of the Church of England through its Ordinances 
      and Liturgy than that, in spite of the unworthiness of the 
      minister, his church was regularly attended; and, though there was 
      not much appearance in his flock of what might be called animated 
      piety, intoxication was rare, and dissolute morals unknown? With 
      the Bible they were for the most part well acquainted; and, as was 
      strikingly shown when they were under affliction, must have been 
      supported and comforted by habitual belief in those truths which 
      it is the aim of the Church to inculcate.--"Loughrigg Tarn." This 
      beautiful pool and the surrounding scene are minutely described in 
      my little Book on the Lakes. Sir G. H. Beaumont, in the earlier 
      part of his life, was induced, by his love of nature and the art 
      of painting, to take up his abode at Old Brathay, about three 
      miles from this spot, so that he must have seen it under many 
      aspects; and he was so much pleased with it that he purchased the 
      Tarn with a view to build, near it, such a residence as is alluded 
      to in this Epistle. Baronets and knights were not so common in 
      that day as now, and Sir Michael le Fleming, not liking to have a 
      rival in that kind of distinction so near him, claimed a sort of 
      lordship over the territory, and showed dispositions little in 
      unison with those of Sir G. Beaumont, who was eminently a lover of 
      peace. The project of building was in consequence given up, Sir 
      George retaining possession of the Tarn. Many years afterwards a 
      Kendal tradesman born upon its banks applied to me for the 
      purchase of it, and accordingly it was sold for the sum that had 
      been given for it, and the money was laid out under my direction 
      upon a substantial oak fence for a certain number of yew trees to 
      be planted in Grasmere churchyard; two were planted in each 
      enclosure, with a view to remove, after a certain time, the one 
      which throve the least. After several years, the stouter plant 
      being left, the others were taken up and placed in other parts of 
      the same churchyard, and were adequately fenced at the expense and 
      under the care of the late Mr. Barber, Mr. Greenwood, and myself: 
      the whole eight are now thriving, and are already an ornament to a 
      place which, during late years, has lost much of its rustic 
      simplicity by the introduction of iron palisades to fence off 
      family burying-grounds, and by numerous monuments, some of them in 
      very bad taste; from which this place of burial was in my memory 
      quite free. See the lines in the sixth book of the "Excursion" 
      beginning--"Green is the churchyard, beautiful and green." The 
      "Epistle" to which these notes refer, though written so far back 
      as 1804, was carefully revised so late as 1842, previous to its 
      publication. I am loth to add, that it was never seen by the 
      person to whom it is addressed. So sensible am I of the 
      deficiencies in all that I write, and so far does everything that 
      I attempt fall short of what I wish it to be, that even private 
      publication, if such a term may be allowed, requires more 
      resolution than I can command. I have written to give vent to my 
      own mind, and not without hope that, some time or other, kindred 
      minds might benefit by my labours: but I am inclined to believe I 
      should never have ventured to send forth any verses of mine to the 
      world if it had not been done on the pressure of personal 
      occasions. Had I been a rich man, my productions, like this 
      "Epistle," the tragedy of the "Borderers," etc., would most likely 
      have been confined to manuscript.