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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
130
Afterwards
we
lingered
long,
looking
into
the
vales;
Ambleside
vale,
with
the
copses,
the
village
under
the
hill,
and
the
green
fields;
Rydale,
with
a
lake
all
alive
and
glittering,
yet
but
little
stirred
by
breezes;
and
our
dear
Grasmere,
making
a
little
round
lake
of
nature's
own,
with
never
a
house,
never
a
green
field,
but
the
copses
and
the
bare
hills
enclosing
it,
and
the
river
flowing
out
of
it.
Above
rose
the
Coniston
Fells,
in
their
own
shape
and
colour--not
man's
hills,
but
all
for
themselves,
the
sky
and
the
clouds,
and
a
few
wild
creatures.
C.
went
to
search
for
something
new.
We
saw
him
climbing
up
towards
a
rock.
He
called
us,
and
we
found
him
in
a
bower--the
sweetest
that
was
ever
seen.
The
rock
on
one
side
is
very
high,
and
all
covered
with
ivy,
which
hung
loosely
about,
and
bore
bunches
of
brown
berries.
On
the
other
side
it
was
higher
than
my
head.
We
looked
down
on
the
Ambleside
vale,
that
seemed
to
wind
away
from
us,
the
village
lying
under
the
hill.
The
fir-tree
island
was
reflected
beautifully.
About
this
bower
there
is
mountain-ash,
common-ash,
yew-tree,
ivy,
holly,
hawthorn,
grasses,
and
flowers,
and
a
carpet
of
moss.
Above,
at
the
top
of
the
rock,
there
is
another
spot.
It
is
scarce
a
bower,
a
little
parlour
only,
not
enclosed
by
walls,
but
shaped
out
for
a
resting-place
by
the
rocks,
and
the
ground
rising
about
it.
It
had
a
sweet
moss
carpet.
We
resolved
to
go
and
plant
flowers
in
both
these
places
to-morrow.
We
wished
for
Mary
and
Sara.
Dined
late.
After
dinner
Wm.
and
I
worked
in
the
garden.
C.
received
a
letter
from
Sara.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
