No More Learning

Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade.

"It is barren moor for miles around. The water still falls into the
'cup of stone,' which appeared to be of very long standing. Within ten
yards of the well is a small tree, at the same side of the road as the
well, on the right hand coming from Richmond. "

The Rev. Thomas Hutchinson of Kimbolton wrote to me on June 18, 1883:

"The tree is not a Thorn, but a Lime. It is evidently an old one, but
is now in full and beautiful leaf. It stands on the western side of
the road, and a few yards distant from it. The well is somewhat nearer
the road. This side of the road is open to the fell. On the other side
the road is bounded by a stone wall: another wall meeting this one at
right angles, exactly opposite the well. I ascended the hill on the
north side of this wall for some distance, but could find no trace of
any rough-hewn stone. Descending on the other side, I found in the
wall one, and only one, such stone. I should say the base was in the
wall. The stone itself leans outwards; so that, at the top, three of
its square faces can be seen; and two, if not three, of these faces
bear marks of being hammer-dressed.
The distance from the stone to the
well is about 40 yards, and the height of the stone out of the ground
about 3 or 4 feet.

"The ascent from the well is a gentle one, not 'sheer'; nor does there
appear to be any hollow by which the shepherd could ascend. On the
western side of the road there is a wide plain, with a slight fall in
that direction. "


"'Hart-Leap Well' is the tale for me; in matter as good as this
('Peter Bell'); in manner infinitely before it, in my poor judgment. "

Charles Lamb to Wordsworth, May 1819. (See 'The Letters of Charles
Lamb', edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. ii. p. 20. )--Ed.





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THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS; OR, DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE [A]

A PASTORAL


Composed 1800. --Published 1800


[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. I will only add a little monitory
anecdote concerning this subject. When Coleridge and Southey were
walking together upon the Fells, Southey observed that, if I wished to
be considered a faithful painter of rural manners, I ought not to have
said that my shepherd-boys trimmed their rustic hats as described in the
poem. Just as the words had passed his lips two boys appeared with the
very plant entwined round their hats. I have often wondered that
Southey, who rambled so much about the mountains, should have fallen
into this mistake, and I record it as a warning for others who, with far
less opportunity than my dear friend had of knowing what things are, and
far less sagacity, give way to presumptuous criticism, from which he was
free, though in this matter mistaken.