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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
229
The
neighbourhood
of
Lanerk
is
exceedingly
pleasant;
we
came
to
a
sort
of
district
of
glens
or
little
valleys
that
cleave
the
hills,
leaving
a
cheerful,
open
country
above
them,
with
no
superior
hills,
but
an
undulating
surface.
Our
guide
pointed
to
the
situation
of
the
Cartland
Crags.
We
were
to
cross
a
narrow
valley,
and
walk
down
on
the
other
side,
and
then
we
should
be
at
the
spot;
but
the
little
fellow
made
a
sharp
turn
down
a
footpath
to
the
left,
saying,
"We
must
have
some
conversation
here."
He
paddled
on
with
his
small
pawing
feet
till
we
came
right
opposite
to
a
gentleman's
house
on
the
other
side
of
the
valley,
when
he
halted,
repeating
some
words,
I
have
forgotten
what,
which
were
taken
up
by
the
most
distinct
echo
I
ever
heard--this
is
saying
little:
it
was
the
most
distinct
echo
that
it
is
possible
to
conceive.
It
shouted
the
names
of
our
fireside
friends
in
the
very
tone
in
which
William
and
Coleridge
spoke;
but
it
seemed
to
make
a
joke
of
me,
and
I
could
not
help
laughing
at
my
own
voice,
it
was
so
shrill
and
pert,
exactly
as
if
some
one
had
been
mimicking
it
very
successfully,
with
an
intention
of
making
me
ridiculous.
I
wished
Joanna
had
been
there
to
laugh,
for
the
echo
is
an
excellent
laugher,
and
would
have
almost
made
her
believe
that
it
was
a
true
story
which
William
has
told
of
her
and
the
mountains.
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