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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
218
We
came
to
a
moorish
tract;
saw
before
us
the
hills
of
Loch
Lomond,
Ben
Lomond
and
another,
distinct
each
by
itself.
Not
far
from
the
roadside
were
some
benches
placed
in
rows
in
the
middle
of
a
large
field,
with
a
sort
of
covered
shed
like
a
sentry-box,
but
much
more
like
those
boxes
which
the
Italian
puppet-showmen
in
London
use.
We
guessed
that
it
was
a
pulpit
or
tent
for
preaching,
and
were
told
that
a
sect
met
there
occasionally,
who
held
that
toleration
was
unscriptural,
and
would
have
all
religions
but
their
own
exterminated.
I
have
forgotten
what
name
the
man
gave
to
this
sect;
we
could
not
learn
that
it
differed
in
any
other
respect
from
the
Church
of
Scotland.
Travelled
for
some
miles
along
the
open
country,
which
was
all
without
hedgerows,
sometimes
arable,
sometimes
moorish,
and
often
whole
tracts
covered
with
grunsel.[81]
There
was
one
field,
which
one
might
have
believed
had
been
sown
with
grunsel,
it
was
so
regularly
covered
with
it--a
large
square
field
upon
a
slope,
its
boundary
marked
to
our
eyes
only
by
the
termination
of
the
bright
yellow;
contiguous
to
it
were
other
fields
of
the
same
size
and
shape,
one
of
clover,
the
other
of
potatoes,
all
equally
regular
crops.
The
oddness
of
this
appearance,
the
grunsel
being
uncommonly
luxuriant,
and
the
field
as
yellow
as
gold,
made
William
laugh.
Coleridge
was
melancholy
upon
it,
observing
that
there
was
land
enough
wasted
to
rear
a
healthy
child.
[Footnote
81:
Ragweed.--J.
C.
S.]
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