Thursday, 6th November.— . . . Read Point Rash Judgment. . . .
Friday, 7th November.— . . . I working and reading Amelia. The Michaelmas daisy droops, the pansies are full of flowers, the ashes still green all but one, but they have lost many of their leaves. The copses are quite brown. The poor woman and child from Whitehaven drank tea. . . .
Saturday, 8th November.—A rainy morning. A whirlwind came that tossed about the leaves, and tore off the still green leaves of the ashes. Wm. and I walked out at 4 o'clock. Went as far as Rothay Bridge. . . . The whole face of the country in a winter covering.
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Monday.— . . . Jupiter over the hilltops, the only star, like a sun, flashed out at intervals from behind a black cloud.
Tuesday Morning.— . . . William had been working at the sheepfold. . . . Played at cards. A mild night, partly clouded, partly starlight. The cottage lights. The mountains not very distinct.
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Thursday.—We sate in the house all the morning. Rainy weather, played at cards. A poor woman from Hawkshead begged, a widow of Grasmere. A merry African from Longtown. . . .
Friday.—Much wind, but a sweet mild morning. I nailed up trees. . . . Two letters from Coleridge, very ill. One from Sara H. . . .
Saturday Morning.—A terrible rain, so prevented William from going to Coleridge's. The afternoon fine. . . . We both set forward at five o'clock. A fine wild night. I walked with W. over the Raise. It was starlight. I parted with him very sad, unwilling not to go on. The hills, and the stars, and the white waters, with their ever varying yet ceaseless sound, were very impressive. I supped at the Simpsons'. Mr. S. walked home with me.
