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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
249
While
tea
was
preparing
we
lolled
at
our
ease,
and
though
the
room-window
overlooked
the
stable-yard,
and
at
our
entrance
there
appeared
to
be
nothing
but
gloom
and
unloveliness,
yet
while
I
lay
stretched
upon
the
carriage
cushions
on
three
chairs,
I
discovered
a
little
side
peep
which
was
enough
to
set
the
mind
at
work.
It
was
no
more
than
a
smoky
vessel
lying
at
anchor,
with
its
bare
masts,
a
clay
hut
and
the
shelving
bank
of
the
river,
with
a
green
pasture
above.
Perhaps
you
will
think
that
there
is
not
much
in
this,
as
I
describe
it:
it
is
true;
but
the
effect
produced
by
these
simple
objects,
as
they
happened
to
be
combined,
together
with
the
gloom
of
the
evening,
was
exceedingly
wild.
Our
room
was
parted
by
a
slender
partition
from
a
large
dining-room,
in
which
were
a
number
of
officers
and
their
wives,
who,
after
the
first
hour,
never
ceased
singing,
dancing,
laughing,
or
loud
talking.
The
ladies
sang
some
pretty
songs,
a
great
relief
to
us.
We
went
early
to
bed;
but
poor
Coleridge
could
not
sleep
for
the
noise
at
the
street
door;
he
lay
in
the
parlour
below
stairs.
It
is
no
uncommon
thing
in
the
best
inns
of
Scotland
to
have
shutting-up
beds
in
the
sitting-rooms.
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