 eminently deserving. He was a being
formed in the very poetry of nature. His wild and enthusiastic imagination was
chastened by the sensibility of his heart. His soul overflowed with ardent
affections, and his friendship was of that devoted and wondrous nature that the
worldly-minded teach us to look for only in the imagination. But even human
sympathies were not sufficient to satisfy his eager mind. The scenery of
external nature, which others regard only with admiration, he loved with ardour:
-
 
-- »The sounding cataract
Haunted him like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to him
An appetite; a feeling, and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrow'd from the eye.«3
 
And where does he now exist? Is this gentle and lovely being lost for ever? Has
this mind, so replete with ideas, imaginations fanciful and magnificent, which
formed a world, whose existence depended on the life of its creator; - has this
mind perished? Does it now only exist in my memory? No, it is not thus; your
form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit
still visits and consoles your unhappy friend.
    Pardon this gush of sorrow; these ineffectual words are but a slight tribute
to the unexampled worth of Henry, but they soothe my heart, overflowing with the
anguish which his remembrance creates. I will proceed with my tale.
    Beyond Cologne we descended to the plains of Holland; and we resolved to
post the remainder of our way; for the wind was contrary, and the stream of the
river was too gentle to aid us.
    Our journey here lost the interest arising from beautiful scenery; but we
arrived in a few days at Rotterdam, whence we proceeded by sea to England. It
was on a clear morning, in the latter days of December, that I first saw the
white cliffs of Britain. The banks of the Thames presented a new scene; they
were flat, but fertile, and almost every town was marked by the remembrance of
some story. We saw Tilbury Fort, and remembered the Spanish armada; Gravesend,
Woolwich, and Greenwich, places which I had heard of even in my country.
    At length we saw the numerous steeples of London, St. Paul's towering above
all, and the Tower famed in English history.
 

                                  Chapter XIX

London was our present point of rest; we determined to remain several months in
this wonderful and celebrated
