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
The women and I were again left to the fireside, and there were no
limits to their joy in me, for they discovered another bond of
connexion. I lived in the same part of England from which Mr. Rose,
the superintendent of the slate-quarries, and his wife, had come.
"Oh!" said Mrs. Stuart--so her neighbour called her, they not giving
each other their Christian names, as is common in Cumberland and
Westmoreland,--"Oh!" said she, "what would not I give to see anybody
that came from within four or five miles of Leadhills?" They both
exclaimed that I must see Mrs. Rose; she would make much of me--she
would have given me tea and bread and butter and a good breakfast. I
learned from the two women, Mrs. Stuart and Mrs. Duncan--so the other
was called--that Stuart had come from Leadhills for the sake of better
wages, to take the place of Duncan, who had resigned his office of
blacksmith to the quarries, as far as I could learn, in a pet, intending
to go to America, that his wife was averse to go, and that the scheme,
for this cause and through other difficulties, had been given up. He
appeared to be a good-tempered man, and made us a most reasonable charge
for mending the car. His wife told me that they must give up the house
in a short time to the other blacksmith; she did not know whither they
should go, but her husband, being a good workman, could find employment
anywhere. She hurried me out to introduce me to Mrs. Rose, who was at
work in the hay-field; she was exceedingly glad to see one of her
country-women, and entreated that I would go up to her house. It was a
substantial plain house, that would have held half-a-dozen of the common
huts. She conducted me into a sitting-room up-stairs, and set before me
red and white wine, with the remnant of a loaf of wheaten bread, which
she took out of a cupboard in the sitting-room, and some delicious
butter. She was a healthy and cheerful-looking woman, dressed like one
of our country lasses, and had certainly had no better education than
Peggy Ashburner, but she was as a chief in this secluded place, a Madam
of the village, and seemed to be treated with the utmost respect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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