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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
271
Wherever
we
looked,
it
was
a
delightful
feeling
that
there
was
something
beyond.
Meanwhile,
the
sense
of
quiet
was
never
lost
sight
of;
the
little
peaceful
lakes
among
the
islands
might
make
you
forget
that
the
great
water,
Loch
Lomond,
was
so
near;
and
yet
are
more
beautiful,
because
you
know
that
it
is
so:
they
have
their
own
bays
and
creeks
sheltered
within
a
shelter.
When
we
had
ascended
to
the
top
of
the
island
we
had
a
view
up
to
Ben
Lomond,
over
the
long,
broad
water
without
spot
or
rock;
and,
looking
backwards,
saw
the
islands
below
us
as
on
a
map.
This
view,
as
may
be
supposed,
was
not
nearly
so
interesting
as
those
we
had
seen
before.
We
hunted
out
all
the
houses
on
the
shore,
which
were
very
few:
there
was
the
village
of
Luss,
the
two
gentlemen's
houses,
our
favourite
cottages,
and
here
and
there
a
hut;
but
I
do
not
recollect
any
comfortable-looking
farm-houses,
and
on
the
opposite
shore
not
a
single
dwelling.
The
whole
scene
was
a
combination
of
natural
wildness,
loveliness,
beauty,
and
barrenness,
or
rather
bareness,
yet
not
comfortless
or
cold;
but
the
whole
was
beautiful.
We
were
too
far
off
the
more
distant
shore
to
distinguish
any
particular
spots
which
we
might
have
regretted
were
not
better
cultivated,
and
near
Luss
there
was
no
want
of
houses.
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