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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
81
Tuesday,
22nd.--
...
Wm.
composed
a
few
lines
of
The
Pedlar.
We
talked
about
Lamb's
tragedy
as
we
went
down
the
White
Moss.
We
stopped
a
long
time
in
going
to
watch
a
little
bird
with
a
salmon-coloured
breast,
a
white
cross
or
T
upon
its
wings,
and
a
brownish
back
with
faint
stripes....
It
began
to
pick
upon
the
road
at
the
distance
of
four
yards
from
us,
and
advanced
nearer
and
nearer
till
it
came
within
the
length
of
W.'s
stick,
without
any
apparent
fear
of
us.
As
we
came
up
the
White
Moss,
we
met
an
old
man,
who
I
saw
was
a
beggar
by
his
two
bags
hanging
over
his
shoulder;
but,
from
half
laziness,
half
indifference,
and
wanting
to
try
him,
if
he
would
speak,
I
let
him
pass.
He
said
nothing,
and
my
heart
smote
me.
I
turned
back,
and
said,
"You
are
begging?"
"Ay,"
says
he.
I
gave
him
something.
William,
judging
from
his
appearance,
joined
in,
"I
suppose
you
were
a
sailor?"
"Ay,"
he
replied,
"I
have
been
57
years
at
sea,
12
of
them
on
board
a
man-of-war
under
Sir
Hugh
Palmer."
"Why
have
you
not
a
pension?"
"I
have
no
pension,
but
I
could
have
got
into
Greenwich
hospital,
but
all
my
officers
are
dead."
He
was
75
years
of
age,
had
a
freshish
colour
in
his
cheeks,
grey
hair,
a
decent
hat
with
a
binding
round
the
edge,
the
hat
worn
brown
and
glossy,
his
shoes
were
small
thin
shoes
low
in
the
quarters,
pretty
good.
They
had
belonged
to
a
gentleman.
His
coat
was
frock
shaped,
coming
over
his
thighs.
It
had
been
joined
up
at
the
seams
behind
with
paler
blue,
to
let
it
out,
and
there
were
three
bell-shaped
patches
of
darker
blue
behind,
where
the
buttons
had
been.
His
breeches
were
either
of
fustian,
or
grey
cloth,
with
strings
hanging
down,
whole
and
tight.
He
had
a
checked
shirt
on,
and
a
small
coloured
handkerchief
tied
round
his
neck.
His
bags
were
hung
over
each
shoulder,
and
lay
on
each
side
of
him,
below
his
breast.
One
was
brownish
and
of
coarse
stuff,
the
other
was
white
with
meal
on
the
outside,
and
his
blue
waistcoat
was
whitened
with
meal.
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