Such glimpse as he had caught of the streets did not invite him forth, but neither could he sit unoccupied; as the weather was fair, he rambled for an hour or two.

His mind was in a condition difficult to account for; instead of dwelling upon the purpose that had brought him hither, it busied itself with all manner of thoughts and fancies belonging to years long past.

He recalled the first lines of a poem he had once attempted; it was suggested by a reading of Coleridge--and there, possibly, lay the point of association.

Coleridge: then he fell upon literary reminiscences.

Where, by the way, was St.Mary Redcliffe?
He put the inquiry to a passer-by, and was directed.