fell in torrents, and it became doubtful whether we should set
off or not; but as it was a thunder-shower, we waited till it was over,
and then Wordsworth, Mr. Quillinan, Miss Hutchinson, and I, set forth in
our carriage to Coniston, where we were to find the Rydal Mount carriage
awaiting us with Mr. Hutchinson. Wordsworth talked very agreeably on the
way to Coniston, and repeated several verses of his own, which he seemed
pleased that Serjeant Talfourd had repeated to him the day before. He
mentioned a singular instance of T. Campbell's inaccuracy of memory in
having actually printed as his own a poem of Wordsworth's, 'The
Complaint:' he repeated it beautifully as we were going up the hill to
Coniston. On reaching the inn in the village of Coniston, the rain again
fell in torrents. At length, the carriages were ordered to the door with
the intention of our returning home; but just as they were ready the sun
broke out, and we turned the horse's head towards Ulpha Kirk. The right
bank of Coniston was all new to me after we passed the village, and Old
Man of Coniston. The scenery ceases to be bold and rugged, but is very
pleasing, the road passing through hazel copses, the openings showing
nice little cornfields and comfortable detached farms, with old
uncropped trees standing near them; some very fine specimens of old ash
trees, which I longed to transport to Easedale, where they have been so
cruelly lopped. The opening towards the sea, as we went on, was very
pleasing; but the first striking view of the Duddon was looking down
upon it soon after we passed Broughton, where you turn to the right, and
very soon after perceive the peculiar beauty of the valley, although it
does not take its wild and dreamlike beauty till you pass Ulpha Kirk. We
reversed the order of the sonnets, and saw the river first, 'in radiant
progress tow'rd the deep,' instead of tracing this 'child of the clouds'
from its cradle in the lofty waste. We reached the Kirk of Ulpha between
five and six. The appearance of the little farm-house inn at once made
anything approaching to a dinner an impossibility had we wished it ever
so much; but in due time we had tea and boiled ham, with two eggs
apiece, and were much invigorated by this our first Duddonian meal. The
hostess was evidently surprised that we thought of remaining all night,
so humbly did she think of the accommodation she had to offer. She
remembered Mr. Wordsworth sleeping there fifteen years a