Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 2 (of 2)Wordsworth, Dorothy
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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 2 (of 2)
Wordsworth, Dorothy
Authors, English -- 19th century -- Diaries; Wordsworth, Dorothy, 1771-1855 -- Diaries; Wordsworth, William, 1770-1850 -- Family
There are no colleges, or separate dwellings, in Leyden, for the
students; they are lodged with different families in the town. Our
guide had three at his house from England, as he told us. A wandering
sheep lying at the threshold, as we passed a good-looking house in the
street; were told that this was a pensioner upon the public, that it
would lie there till it was fed, and then would pass on to some other
door. This animal had been brought up the pet of a soldier once
quartered at Leyden, and when he changed his situation his favourite was
sent into the fields, but preferring human society, it could not be
confined amongst its fellows, but ever returned to the town, and,
begging its daily food, it passed from door to door of those houses
which its old master had frequented, obstinately keeping its station
until an alms was bestowed--bread, vegetables, soup, nothing came wrong,
and as soon as this was received, the patient mendicant walked quietly
away.
_Haarlem._-- ... Reached Haarlem at five o'clock; went directly to the
Cathedral, mounted the tower, an hour too early for the sunset; a
splendid and interesting view beyond any we have seen. Looking eastward,
the canal seen stretching through houses and among the trees, to the
spires of Amsterdam in the distance. A little to the right, the Mere of
Haarlem spotted with vessels, the river Spaaren winding among trees
through the town; steeple towers of Utrecht beyond the Mere. The Boss, a
fine wood and elegant mansion built by ---- Hope, now a royal residence;
new kirk, fine tower; the sea, and sand-hills beyond the flats glowing
under a dazzling western sky. The winding Spaaren again among green
fields brings the eye round to the Amsterdam canal, up which we shall
glide....
_Friday 30th._-- ... We were floating between stunted willows towards
Amsterdam, the birds sweetly warbling, but the same unvaried course
before us. I have, however, a basket at my feet containing pots of
fragrant geranium, and a beautiful flowering fern, brought, I suppose,
from the market where we saw the commodities offered for sale. The
groups of figures, with their baskets and stalls of vegetables, ranged
along the shady avenues, have often a striking effect; the fanciful
architecture towering above, as seen from the end of one of the market
streets, especially if the view be terminated by a spire or a lofty
tower.... The spires of Amsterdam, and different spires and shipping,
rise beyond the flat line of the water. The same cold north wind is
breathing in the sunshine, now that we are not within the screen of the
trees. The plains are scattered with cattle, and a broken line of Dutch
farm-houses, which we have hitherto in vain looked for, stretch at a
field's distance from the canal. Having now resumed our seats, reeds and
pools diversify our course; and drawing nearer Amsterdam, I must put
away my book, to look after the pleasure-houses and gardens; the first
presents a bed of full-blown China roses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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