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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
279
After
long
waiting,
and
many
clumsy
preparations,
we
got
ourselves
seated
in
the
boat;
but
we
had
not
floated
five
yards
before
we
perceived
that
if
any
of
the
party--and
there
was
a
little
Highland
woman
who
was
going
over
the
water
with
us,
the
boatman,
his
helper,
and
ourselves--should
stir
but
a
few
inches,
leaning
to
one
side
or
the
other,
the
boat
would
be
full
in
an
instant,
and
we
at
the
bottom;
besides,
it
was
very
leaky,
and
the
woman
was
employed
to
lade
out
the
water
continually.
It
appeared
that
this
crazy
vessel
was
not
the
man's
own,
and
that
his
was
lying
in
a
bay
at
a
little
distance.
He
said
he
would
take
us
to
it
as
fast
as
possible,
but
I
was
so
much
frightened
I
would
gladly
have
given
up
the
whole
day's
journey;
indeed
not
one
of
us
would
have
attempted
to
cross
the
lake
in
that
boat
for
a
thousand
pounds.
We
reached
the
larger
boat
in
safety
after
coasting
a
considerable
way
near
the
shore,
but
just
as
we
were
landing,
William
dropped
the
bundle
which
contained
our
food
into
the
water.
The
fowls
were
no
worse,
but
some
sugar,
ground
coffee,
and
pepper-cake
seemed
to
be
entirely
spoiled.
We
gathered
together
as
much
of
the
coffee
and
sugar
as
we
could
and
tied
it
up,
and
again
trusted
ourselves
to
the
lake.
The
sun
shone,
and
the
air
was
calm--luckily
it
had
been
so
while
we
were
in
the
crazy
boat--we
had
rocks
and
woods
on
each
side
of
us,
or
bare
hills;
seldom
a
single
cottage,
and
there
was
no
rememberable
place
till
we
came
opposite
to
a
waterfall
of
no
inconsiderable
size,
that
appeared
to
drop
directly
into
the
lake:
close
to
it
was
a
hut,
which
we
were
told
was
the
ferry-house.
On
the
other
side
of
the
lake
was
a
pretty
farm
under
the
mountains,
beside
a
river,
the
cultivated
grounds
lying
all
together,
and
sloping
towards
the
lake
from
the
mountain
hollow
down
which
the
river
came.
It
is
not
easy
to
conceive
how
beautiful
these
spots
appeared
after
moving
on
so
long
between
the
solitary
steeps.
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