This," she went on, as if she knew what she had to say by heart, "is the original manuscript of the 'Ode to Winter.' The early poems are far less corrected than the later.

Would you like to look at it ?" While Mr.Denham examined the manuscript, she glanced up at her grandfather, and, for the thousandth time, fell into a pleasant dreamy state in which she seemed to be the companion of those giant men, of their own lineage, at any rate, and the insignificant present moment was put to shame.

That magnificent ghostly head on the canvas, surely, never beheld all the trivialities of a Sunday afternoon, and it did not seem to matter what she and this young man said to each other, for they were only small people.
"This is a copy of the first edition of the poems," she continued, without considering the fact that Mr.Denham was still occupied with the manuscript, "which contains several poems that have not been reprinted, as well as corrections." She paused for a minute, and then went on, as if these spaces had all been calculated.
"That lady in blue is my great-grandmother, by Millington.

Here is my uncle's walking-stick--he was Sir Richard Warburton, you know, and rode with Havelock to the Relief of Lucknow.

And then, let me see--oh, that's the original Alardyce, 1697, the founder of the family fortunes, with his wife.