Te Aroha AND Ohinemuri News AND UPPER THAMES ADVOCATE. TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 1898. A GREAT MAN’S SISTER.

Te Aroha News, Volume XIV, Issue 2084, 8 March 1898, Page 2

Te Aroha AND Ohinemuri News AND UPPER THAMES ADVOCATE.

TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 1898. A GREAT MAN’S SISTER.

* Till® ahova ftll—to thj.no own self bo bjne, lad il moot follow ns the night the day Then oanot not then bo false to any mea. SIHKIiarKAHS.

: Great men owe much to their mothers* and many an interesting ; article has been written on the subject; but we have not react one on the subject of great men-s sisters* which we think would afford an alluring theme. We have just read a review of Dorothy Woodsworth’s Journals* published recently for the first time, in a collected form by Messrs Macmillan. They afford some delightful reading, and we were inclined to think that of all famous sixers Dorothy Wordsworth merits the palm. It is to that well-knowu litterateur, Wm. Knight, we. owe the collected edition, of Miss Dorothy s ‘Journals’ just published in the 1 Eyersley Series*’ and these Journals show us, among other things, where William Wordsworth, Lord Tennyson’s predecessor in the laureateship, got many of his facts and much of hia inspiration. She was not only his amanuensis, maid-of-all-work, housewife, and travelling companion ; she waahis Egeria* his spiritual helpmeet. his guardian angel. ‘ She preserved the poet in him/as a critic observed* 4 and darned his stockings*’ * She gave me eyes, ’ says her brother in one of his lyrris. A statement fully corroborated by Dorothy’s ‘Journals.’ We cannot refrain from quoting a few entries. They are so delightfully characteristic ;— ‘ To-day I mended William’s shirts.’ Of the love of the sister for the brother every page in the diary bears witness. If William is away, then ‘ Wished for Wm.’ is the entry.' If William has the slightest ailment* be . sure we hear of it. ‘ William out of spirits.’— ‘ William worked at 1 the Ruined Cottage*’ and made himself very ill/ —‘ "ft in. was very unwell. Worn out with his bad night’s rest. I read to him to endeav our to make him sleep!’— 4 Wm slept badly.’ ‘ Wm worked at ‘ The Pedlar ’ all the morning. He kept dinner waiting till four e’cloek. He was much tired,’—‘Wm. working at his poem. .It was uninteresting, and must be altered. Poor Wm|!’ The most trivial accidents are important to Dorothy if they happen to William. ‘ Wm discovered that he had lost his gloves He turned back, but they were gone.’ At breakfast, William ‘ ate not a morsel* but sate with his shirt neck unbuttoned,, and his waistcoat open.’ W illiam ‘ had a glass of warm rum and water.’ ‘ William tired himself with seeking an epithet for the cuckoo.’ We should be tempted to smile* did we not remember that these tender trivialities of his sister’s diary were never intended for the public eye. After William, and not a very long way after* Coleridge gets the chief share of Dorothy’s tender regard. There is no mistaking its tenderness ‘ The hips very beautiful, and so good 1 and, dear Coleridge, I ate twenty for thee when I was by myself.’ 1 We broke the seal of Coleridge’s letters, and I had light enough jnst to see that he was not ill. I put it iu my pocket. At the top of the White Moss I took it to my bosom—a safer place for it.’ ‘Coleridge had a meet day for his ride. Every sight and every sound reminded tne of him —dear, dear fellow, of his mauy talks to us. by- day and by night, of all dear things, I was melancholy and could not talk, but at last I eased ray heart by weeping —nervous blubbering, says William.’ So like a brother ! It is

to Coleridge, by the way, that we owe the best description of Dorothy (in a ; letter to Cottle of July 1797):— I ‘Wj and his exquisite sister are with me. She is a woman, indeed—in mind, I mean, and heart. Her information various. Her eye watchful in minutest observation of nature ; and her taste a perfeot electrometer. It bends, protrudes, and draws in, at subtlest beauties and most recondite faults.’ Dorothy’s Journals teem with this ‘ minutest observation of nature.’ Here is the very first entry in the journal kept at Alfi xden in 1798 : ‘ The green paths down the hillsides are channels for streams. The young wheat is streaked by silver lines of water running between the ridges, the sheep are gathered together on the slopes. After the wet dark days, the country seems more populous. It peoples itself in the sunbeams. The garden, inimiVof spring, is gay with flowers. The purplestarred hepatica spreads itself in the sun, and the clustering snowdrops put forth their white heads, at first upright, ribbed with green, and like a rosebud ® when completely opened, hanging their heads downwards, but slowly strengthening their slender stems. The slanting woods of an unvarying brown, showing the light through the thin net-work of their upper houghs. Upon the highest ridge of that round hill covered with planted oaks, the shafts of the trees show in the light like the columns of a ruin.’ Sometimes Dorothy’s ‘ excellent regard for common things’ makes odd leaps from the landscape to the kitchen. Thus : 4 There was a vernal greenness upon the grass, from the rains of the morning and afternoon. Peas for dinner.’ ' This, we suppose, was what her brother called * plain living and high thinking.’