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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
283
We
walked
about
a
mile
and
a
half
over
the
moor
without
seeing
any
other
dwelling
but
one
hut
by
the
burn-side,
with
a
peat-stack
and
a
ten-yards-square
enclosure
for
potatoes;
then
we
came
to
several
clusters
of
houses,
even
hamlets
they
might
be
called,
but
where
there
is
any
land
belonging
to
the
Highland
huts
there
are
so
many
out-buildings
near,
which
differ
in
no
respect
from
the
dwelling-houses
except
that
they
send
out
no
smoke,
that
one
house
looks
like
two
or
three.
Near
these
houses
was
a
considerable
quantity
of
cultivated
ground,
potatoes
and
corn,
and
the
people
were
busy
making
hay
in
the
hollow
places
of
the
open
vale,
and
all
along
the
sides
of
the
becks.
It
was
a
pretty
sight
altogether--men
and
women,
dogs,
the
little
running
streams,
with
linen
bleaching
near
them,
and
cheerful
sunny
hills
and
rocks
on
every
side.
We
passed
by
one
patch
of
potatoes
that
a
florist
might
have
been
proud
of;
no
carnation-bed
ever
looked
more
gay
than
this
square
plot
of
ground
on
the
waste
common.
The
flowers
were
in
very
large
bunches,
and
of
an
extraordinary
size,
and
of
every
conceivable
shade
of
colouring
from
snow-white
to
deep
purple.
It
was
pleasing
in
that
place,
where
perhaps
was
never
yet
a
flower
cultivated
by
man
for
his
own
pleasure,
to
see
these
blossoms
grow
more
gladly
than
elsewhere,
making
a
summer
garden
near
the
mountain
dwellings.
At
one
of
the
clusters
of
houses
we
parted
with
our
companion,
who
had
insisted
on
bearing
my
bundle
while
she
stayed
with
us.
I
often
tried
to
enter
into
conversation
with
her,
and
seeing
a
small
tarn
before
us,
was
reminded
of
the
pleasure
of
fishing
and
the
manner
of
living
there,
and
asked
her
what
sort
of
food
was
eaten
in
that
place,
if
they
lived
much
upon
fish,
or
had
mutton
from
the
hills;
she
looked
earnestly
at
me,
and
shaking
her
head,
replied,
"Oh
yes!
eat
fish--no
papists,
eat
everything."
The
tarn
had
one
small
island
covered
with
wood;
the
stream
that
runs
from
it
falls
into
Loch
Ketterine,
which,
after
we
had
gone
a
little
beyond
the
tarn,
we
saw
at
some
distance
before
us.
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