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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
190
Reached
Dumfries
at
about
nine
o'clock--market-day;
met
crowds
of
people
on
the
road,
and
every
one
had
a
smile
for
us
and
our
car....
The
inn
was
a
large
house,
and
tolerably
comfortable;
Mr.
Rogers
and
his
sister,
whom
we
had
seen
at
our
own
cottage
at
Grasmere
a
few
days
before,
had
arrived
there
that
same
afternoon
on
their
way
to
the
Highlands;
but
we
did
not
see
them
till
the
next
morning,
and
only
for
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour.
Thursday,
August
18th.--Went
to
the
churchyard
where
Burns
is
buried.
A
bookseller
accompanied
us.
He
showed
us
the
outside
of
Burns's
house,
where
he
had
lived
the
last
three
years
of
his
life,
and
where
he
died.
It
has
a
mean
appearance,
and
is
in
a
bye
situation,
whitewashed;
dirty
about
the
doors,
as
almost
all
Scotch
houses
are;
flowering
plants
in
the
windows.
Went
on
to
visit
his
grave.
He
lies
at
a
corner
of
the
churchyard,
and
his
second
son,
Francis
Wallace,
beside
him.
There
is
no
stone
to
mark
the
spot;
but
a
hundred
guineas
have
been
collected,
to
be
expended
on
some
sort
of
monument.
"There,"
said
the
bookseller,
pointing
to
a
pompous
monument,
"there
lies
Mr.
Such-a-one"--I
have
forgotten
his
name,--"a
remarkably
clever
man;
he
was
an
attorney,
and
hardly
ever
lost
a
cause
he
undertook.
Burns
made
many
a
lampoon
upon
him,
and
there
they
rest,
as
you
see."
We
looked
at
the
grave
with
melancholy
and
painful
reflections,
repeating
to
each
other
his
own
verses:--
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
