I have lived, and I have loved,
Have lived, and loved in vain;
Some joy, and many woes, have proved,
Which may not be again.
My heart is old—my eye is sere—
Joy wins no smile, and grief no tear.
I would hope, if hope I could,
Tho’ sure to be deceived;
There’s sweetness in a thought of good,
If ’tis not quite believed—
But fancy ne’er repeats the strain
That memory once reproves, for vain.
Here endeth my journal.
T. Q. M.
[[338], [339]] I cannot remember the names: the map of Yorkshire I have affords no clue.
[340] This seems a pretty general custom in Westmoreland. Do the young people of this county need informing that “a man may not marry his grandmother?”
[341] I quote from memory, and cannot fill up the blank.
[342] The only instance of dissent I heard of betwixt Kendal and Keswick, was a private Unitarian chapel at a gentleman’s seat near Bowness. At Kendal and Keswick the dissenters are very numerous.