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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
205
We
passed
a
decent-looking
inn,
the
Hopetoun
Arms;
but
the
house
of
Mrs.
Otto,
a
widow,
had
been
recommended
to
us
with
high
encomiums.
We
did
not
then
understand
Scotch
inns,
and
were
not
quite
satisfied
at
first
with
our
accommodations,
but
all
things
were
smoothed
over
by
degrees;
we
had
a
fire
lighted
in
our
dirty
parlour,
tea
came
after
a
reasonable
waiting;
and
the
fire
with
the
gentle
aid
of
twilight,
burnished
up
the
room
into
cheerful
comfort.
Coleridge
was
weary;
but
William
and
I
walked
out
after
tea.
We
talked
with
one
of
the
miners,
who
informed
us
that
the
building
which
we
had
supposed
to
be
a
school
was
a
library
belonging
to
the
village.
He
said
they
had
got
a
book
into
it
a
few
weeks
ago,
which
had
cost
thirty
pounds,
and
that
they
had
all
sorts
of
books.
"What!
have
you
Shakespeare?"
"Yes,
we
have
that,"
and
we
found,
on
further
inquiry,
that
they
had
a
large
library,
of
long
standing,
that
Lord
Hopetoun
had
subscribed
liberally
to
it,
and
that
gentlemen
who
came
with
him
were
in
the
habit
of
making
larger
or
smaller
donations.
Each
man
who
had
the
benefit
of
it
paid
a
small
sum
monthly--I
think
about
fourpence.
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