Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Yet he draws from solitude a kind of satis faction, like a mere herb, or like a solitary fir on a peak, whose very life is the west wind, by which it was shapen. I think of him – I am not certain wherefore – as a martyr, a saint, notwithstanding that he might rather seem little above the trees he equals in tranquillity. But Wordsworth alone, with his power of assigning to the humblest their unique, preper niche in the scheme of things, could fitly write of him. Who else could so well follow at a few yards an hour the grazing horses? He also, though not exempt from the blithe ministries of the south wind to flower and plant, is among the Caryatids.