I have never lived where there were any books till now." "You love Wordsworth, I hope," he said inquiringly.
Mercy turned very red, and answered in a tone of desperation, "I've tried to.

Mr.Allen said I must.

But I can't.

I don't care any thing about him." And she looked at the Parson with the air of a culprit who has confessed a terrible misdemeanor.
"Ah," he replied, "you have not then reached the point in the journey at which one sees him.

It is only a question of time: one comes of a sudden into the presence of Wordsworth, as a traveller finds some day, upon a well-known road, a grand cathedral, into which he turns aside and worships, and wonders how it happens that he never before saw it.