The chief of
them was a neat, white, lady-like house, {36b} very near to the
waterfall. William and Coleridge however were in a better and perhaps
wiser humour, and did not dislike the house; indeed, it was a very
nice-looking place, with a moderate-sized garden, leaving the green
fields free and open. This house is on the side of the river opposite to
the grand house and the pleasure-grounds. The waterfall Cora Linn {36c}
is composed of two falls, with a sloping space, which _appears_ to be
about twenty yards between, but is much more. The basin which receives
the fall is enclosed by noble rocks, with trees, chiefly hazels, birch,
and ash growing out of their sides whenever there is any hold for them;
and a magnificent resting-place it is for such a river; I think more
grand than the Falls themselves.

After having stayed some time, we returned by the same footpath into the
main carriage-road, and soon came upon what William calls an ell-wide
gravel walk, from which we had different views of the Linn. We sat upon
a bench, placed for the sake of one of these views, whence we looked down
upon the waterfall, and over the open country, and saw a ruined tower,
called Wallace's Tower, which stands at a very little distance from the
fall, and is an interesting object. A lady and gentleman, more
expeditious tourists than ourselves, came to the spot; they left us at
the seat, and we found them again at another station above the Falls.
Coleridge, who is always good-natured enough to enter into conversation
with anybody whom he meets in his way, began to talk with the gentleman,
who observed that it was a _majestic_ waterfall. Coleridge was delighted
with the accuracy of the epithet, particularly as he had been settling in
his own mind the precise meaning of the words grand, majestic, sublime,
etc., and had discussed the subject with William at some length the day
before. 'Yes, sir,' says Coleridge, 'it _is_ a majestic waterfall.'
'Sublime and beautiful,' replied his friend. Poor Coleridge could make
no answer, and, not very desirous to continue the conversation, came to
us and related the story, laughing heartily.

The distance from one Linn to the other may be half a mile or more, along
the same ell-wide walk. We came to a pleasure-house, of which the little
girl had the key; she said it was called the Fog-house, because it was
lined with 'fog,' namely moss. On the outside it resembled some of the
huts in the print