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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
103
Sunday,
14th
February.--A
fine
morning.
The
sun
shines
out,
but
it
has
been
a
hard
frost
in
the
night.
There
are
some
little
snowdrops
that
are
afraid
to
put
their
white
heads
quite
out,
and
a
few
blossoms
of
hepatica
that
are
half-starved.
Wm.
left
me
at
work
altering
some
passages
of
The
Pedlar,
and
went
into
the
orchard.
The
fine
day
pushed
him
on
to
resolve,
and
as
soon
as
I
had
read
a
letter
to
him,
which
I
had
just
received
from
Mrs.
Clarkson,
he
said
he
would
go
to
Penrith,
so
Molly
was
despatched
for
the
horse.
I
worked
hard,
got
the
writing
finished,
and
all
quite
trim.
I
wrote
to
Mrs.
Clarkson,
and
put
up
some
letters
for
Mary
H.,
and
off
he
went
in
his
blue
spencer,
and
a
pair
of
new
pantaloons
fresh
from
London....
I
then
sate
over
the
fire,
reading
Ben
Jonson's
Penshurst,
and
other
things.
Before
sunset,
I
put
on
my
shawl
and
walked
out.
The
snow-covered
mountains
were
spotted
with
rich
sunlight,
a
palish
buffish
colour....
I
stood
at
the
wishing-gate,
and
when
I
came
in
view
of
Rydale,
I
cast
a
long
look
upon
the
mountains
beyond.
They
were
very
white,
but
I
concluded
that
Wm.
would
have
a
very
safe
passage
over
Kirkstone,
and
I
was
quite
easy
about
him.
After
dinner,
a
little
before
sunset,
I
walked
out
about
20
yards
above
Glow-worm
Rock.
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