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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
77
Monday
Morning,
7th.--We
rose
by
candlelight.
A
showery
unpleasant
morning,
after
a
downright
rainy
night.
We
determined,
however,
to
go
to
Keswick
if
possible,
and
we
set
off
a
little
after
9
o'clock.
When
we
were
upon
the
Raise,
it
snowed
very
much;
and
the
whole
prospect
closed
in
upon
us,
like
a
moorland
valley,
upon
a
moor
very
wild.
But
when
we
were
at
the
top
of
the
Raise
we
saw
the
mountains
before
us.
The
sun
shone
upon
them,
here
and
there;
and
Wytheburn
vale,
though
wild,
looked
soft.
The
day
went
on
cheerfully
and
pleasantly.
Now
and
then
a
hail
shower
attacked
us;
but
we
kept
up
a
good
heart,
for
Mary
is
a
famous
jockey....
We
reached
Greta
Hall
at
about
one
o'clock.
Met
Mrs.
C.
in
the
field.
Derwent
in
the
cradle
asleep.
Hartley
at
his
dinner.
Derwent
the
image
of
his
father.
Hartley
well.
We
wrote
to
C.
Mrs.
C.
left
us
at
1/2
past
2.
We
drank
tea
by
ourselves,
the
children
playing
about
us.
Mary
said
to
Hartley,
"Shall
I
take
Derwent
with
me?"
"No,"
says
H.,
"I
cannot
spare
my
little
brother,"
in
the
sweetest
tone
possible,
"and
he
can't
do
without
his
mamma."
"Well,"
says
Mary,
"why
can't
I
be
his
mamma?
Can't
he
have
more
mammas
than
one?"
"No,"
says
H.
"What
for?"
"Because
they
do
not
love,
and
mothers
do."
"What
is
the
difference
between
mothers
and
mammas?"
Looking
at
his
sleeves,
"Mothers
wear
sleeves
like
this,
pulling
his
own
tight
down,
and
mammas"
(pulling
them
up,
and
making
a
bustle
about
his
shoulders)
"so."
We
parted
from
them
at
4
o'clock.
It
was
a
little
of
the
dusk
when
we
set
off.
Cotton
mills
lighted
up.
The
first
star
at
Nadel
Fell,
but
it
was
never
dark.
We
rode
very
briskly.
Snow
upon
the
Raise.
Reached
home
at
seven
o'clock.
William
at
work
with
Chaucer,
The
God
of
Love.
Sate
latish.
I
wrote
a
letter
to
Coleridge.
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