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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
276
Walked
in
the
evening
towards
the
head
of
the
lake;
the
road
was
steep
over
the
hill,
and
when
we
had
reached
the
top
of
it
we
had
long
views
up
and
down
the
water.
Passed
a
troop
of
women
who
were
resting
themselves
by
the
roadside,
as
if
returning
from
their
day's
labour.
Amongst
them
was
a
man,
who
had
walked
with
us
a
considerable
way
in
the
morning,
and
told
us
he
was
just
come
from
America,
where
he
had
been
for
some
years,--was
going
to
his
own
home,
and
should
return
to
America.
He
spoke
of
emigration
as
a
glorious
thing
for
them
who
had
money.
Poor
fellow!
I
do
not
think
that
he
had
brought
much
back
with
him,
for
he
had
worked
his
passage
over:
I
much
suspected
that
a
bundle,
which
he
carried
upon
a
stick,
tied
in
a
pocket-handkerchief,
contained
his
all.
He
was
almost
blind,
he
said,
as
were
many
of
the
crew.
He
intended
crossing
the
lake
at
the
ferry;
but
it
was
stormy,
and
he
thought
he
should
not
be
able
to
get
over
that
day.
I
could
not
help
smiling
when
I
saw
him
lying
by
the
roadside
with
such
a
company
about
him,
not
like
a
wayfaring
man,
but
seeming
as
much
at
home
and
at
his
ease
as
if
he
had
just
stepped
out
of
his
hut
among
them,
and
they
had
been
neighbours
all
their
lives.
Passed
one
pretty
house,
a
large
thatched
dwelling
with
out-houses,
but
the
prospect
above
and
below
was
solitary.
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