Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)Wordsworth, Dorothy
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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Wordsworth, Dorothy
Authors, English -- 19th century -- Diaries; Wordsworth, Dorothy, 1771-1855 -- Diaries; Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850 -- Family
They were baking oat-bread, which they cut into quarters, and half-baked
over the fire, and half-toasted before it. There was a suspiciousness
about Mrs. Otto, almost like ill-nature; she was very jealous of any
inquiries that might appear to be made with the faintest idea of a
comparison between Leadhills and any other place, except the advantage
was evidently on the side of Leadhills. We had nice honey to breakfast.
When ready to depart, we learned that we might have seen the library,
which we had not thought of till it was too late, and we were very sorry
to go away without seeing it.
_Saturday, August 20th._--Left Leadhills at nine o'clock, regretting
much that we could not stay another day, that we might have made more
minute inquiries respecting the manner of living of the miners, and been
able to form an estimate, from our own observation, of the degree of
knowledge, health, and comfort that there was among them. The air was
keen and cold; we might have supposed it to be three months later in the
season and two hours earlier in the day. The landlady had not lighted us
a fire; so I was obliged to get myself toasted in the kitchen, and when
we set off I put on both grey cloak and spencer.
Our road carried us down the valley, and we soon lost sight of
Leadhills, for the valley made a turn almost immediately, and we saw two
miles, perhaps, before us; the glen sloped somewhat rapidly--heathy,
bare, no hut or house. Passed by a shepherd, who was sitting upon the
ground, reading, with the book on his knee, screened from the wind by
his plaid, while a flock of sheep were feeding near him among the rushes
and coarse grass--for, as we descended we came among lands where grass
grew with the heather. Travelled through several reaches of the glen,
which somewhat resembled the valley of Menock on the other side of
Wanlockhead; but it was not near so beautiful; the forms of the
mountains did not melt so exquisitely into each other, and there was a
coldness, and, if I may so speak, a want of simplicity in the surface of
the earth; the heather was poor, not covering a whole hill-side; not in
luxuriant streams and beds interveined with rich verdure; but patchy and
stunted, with here and there coarse grass and rushes. But we soon came
in sight of a spot that impressed us very much. At the lower end of this
new reach of the vale was a decayed tree, beside a decayed cottage, the
vale spreading out into a level area which was one large field, without
fence and without division, of a dull yellow colour; the vale seemed to
partake of the desolation of the cottage, and to participate in its
decay. And yet the spot was in its nature so dreary that one would
rather have wondered how it ever came to be tenanted by man, than lament
that it was left to waste and solitude. Yet the encircling hills were so
exquisitely formed that it was impossible to conceive anything more
lovely than this place would have been if the valley and hill-sides had
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