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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
285
Coleridge
and
I
were
faint
with
hunger,
and
could
go
no
further
till
we
had
refreshed
ourselves,
so
we
ate
up
one
of
our
fowls,
and
drank
of
the
water
of
Loch
Ketterine;
but
William
could
not
be
easy
till
he
had
examined
the
coast,
so
he
left
us,
and
made
his
way
along
the
moor
across
the
head
of
the
lake.
Coleridge
and
I,
as
we
sate,
had
what
seemed
to
us
but
a
dreary
prospect--a
waste
of
unknown
ground
which
we
guessed
we
must
travel
over
before
it
was
possible
for
us
to
find
a
shelter.
We
saw
a
long
way
down
the
lake;
it
was
all
moor
on
the
near
side;
on
the
other
the
hills
were
steep
from
the
water,
and
there
were
large
coppice-woods,
but
no
cheerful
green
fields,
and
no
road
that
we
could
see;
we
knew,
however,
that
there
must
be
a
road
from
house
to
house;
but
the
whole
lake
appeared
a
solitude--neither
boats,
islands,
nor
houses,
no
grandeur
in
the
hills,
nor
any
loveliness
in
the
shores.
When
we
first
came
in
view
of
it
we
had
said
it
was
like
a
barren
Ulswater--Ulswater
dismantled
of
its
grandeur,
and
cropped
of
its
lesser
beauties.
When
I
had
swallowed
my
dinner
I
hastened
after
William,
and
Coleridge
followed
me.
Walked
through
the
heather
with
some
labour
for
perhaps
half
a
mile,
and
found
William
sitting
on
the
top
of
a
small
eminence,
whence
we
saw
the
real
head
of
the
lake,
which
was
pushed
up
into
the
vale
a
considerable
way
beyond
the
promontory
where
we
now
sate.
The
view
up
the
lake
was
very
pleasing,
resembling
Thirlemere
below
Armath.
There
were
rocky
promontories
and
woody
islands,
and,
what
was
most
cheering
to
us,
a
neat
white
house
on
the
opposite
shore;
but
we
could
see
no
boats,
so,
in
order
to
get
to
it
we
should
be
obliged
to
go
round
the
head
of
the
lake,
a
long
and
weary
way.
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