[Campton—Wednesday, 19 June 1872]
Wednesday morning. We could not get away very early yesterday morning—the pole of the covered carriage “had gone away” to be mended and nothing was ready as so often happens where as in the country people have all the time there is—but at last by half past nine we were on the road to Sandwich. The day was perfect, the heavens brilliantly painted with cloud scenery, the breezes cool. We started away very quietly with Mr. Willey looking well after his two horses, loitered to have a bolt fastened and to mail our letters in the village and then shortly after began on our hilly road. And such a road—the first part after leaving our own village lay through the town of Thornton wh. appears to be the prey of drink and democracy. The roads are universally neglected which belong to this town and for a mile and a half we crept along over stone, and holes, grateful to get over but with the knowledge that we must return & descend over the same later in the day. The line between Thornton & Sandwich is strongly marked, not by a stone alone, but the road from the moment the line is passed becomes perfectly good although equally hilly & difficult.
Very wild and wooded was the whole of the long drive until we came to Sandwich Village at two o’clock—there we found that Miss Larcom whom we intended to see before our return, was living 4 miles farther! We kept bravely on, though we were both tired & hungry until we came to “Green Gate Cottage” a pretty little place lodged in this remote & hilly place. I hope we may never forget that cottage and barn where Lucy has her study nor the lovely scenes which presented themselves to our mind’s eye. We could not get away before half past 4 and it was ½ past 9 before we reached Willey’s Farm. The mother & daughter were eagerly looking out at the front door after us, for a summer rain was falling and it was nearly night before we descended wearily at the gate. It was a hard days ride of 40 miles over a bad road with no breaks on the carriage and again & again we were obliged to dismount to walk up or down the hills. I hardly knew which was the worse—the ascent or the descent.
Today, Wednesday, it is warm and cloudy & fragrant and peaceful here. I have been sitting quietly reading Spenser.
Mr. Willey is building his rustic porch after our plan.
