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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
251
We
sat
down
on
one
of
the
large
stones
which
lie
scattered
near
the
base
of
the
rock,
with
sea-weed
growing
amongst
them.
Above
our
heads
the
rock
was
perpendicular
for
a
considerable
height,
nay,
as
it
seemed,
to
the
very
top,
and
on
the
brink
of
the
precipice
a
few
sheep,
two
of
them
rams
with
twisted
horns,
stood,
as
if
on
the
look-out
over
the
wide
country.
At
the
same
time
we
saw
a
sentinel
in
his
red
coat,
walking
backwards
and
forwards
between
us
and
the
sky,
with
his
firelock
over
his
shoulder.
The
sheep,
I
suppose
owing
to
our
being
accustomed
to
see
them
in
similar
situations,
appeared
to
retain
their
real
size,
while,
on
the
contrary,
the
soldier
seemed
to
be
diminished
by
the
distance
till
he
almost
looked
like
a
puppet
moved
with
wires
for
the
pleasure
of
children,
or
an
eight
years'
old
drummer
in
his
stiff,
manly
dress
beside
a
company
of
grenadiers.
I
had
never
before,
perhaps,
thought
of
sheep
and
men
in
soldiers'
dresses
at
the
same
time,
and
here
they
were
brought
together
in
a
strange
fantastic
way.
As
will
be
easily
conceived,
the
fearlessness
and
stillness
of
those
quiet
creatures,
on
the
brow
of
the
rock,
pursuing
their
natural
occupations,
contrasted
with
the
restless
and
apparently
unmeaning
motions
of
the
dwarf
soldier,
added
not
a
little
to
the
general
effect
of
this
place,
which
is
that
of
wild
singularity,
and
the
whole
was
aided
by
a
blustering
wind
and
a
gloomy
sky.
Coleridge
joined
us,
and
we
went
up
to
the
top
of
the
rock.
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