The next character, to whom the priest is led by contrast with the resoluteness displayed by the foregoing, is taken from a person born and bred in Grasmere, by name Dawson, and whose talents, dispositions, and way of life, were such as are here delineated.  I did not know him, but all was fresh in memory when we settled at Grasmere in the beginning of the century.  From this point the conversation leads to the mention of two individuals, who by their several fortunes were, at different times, driven to take refuge at the small and obscure town of Hawkshead on the skirt of these mountains.  Their stories I had from the dear old dame with whom, as a school-boy, and afterwards, I lodged for the space of nearly ten years.  The elder, the Jacobite, was named Drummond, and was of a high family in Scotland; the Hanoverian Whig bore the name of Vandeput,[15] and might, perhaps, be a descendant of some Dutchman who had come over in the train of King William.  At all events, his zeal was such, that he ruined himself by a contest for the representation of London or Westminster, undertaken to support his Party, and retired to this corner of the world, selected as it had been by Drummond for that obscurity which, since visiting the Lakes became fashionable, it has no longer retained.  So much was this region considered out of the way till a late period, that persons who had fled from justice used often to resort hither for concealment, and some were so bold as to not unfrequently make excursions from the place of their retreat for the purpose of committing fresh offences.  Such was particularly the case with two brothers of the name of Weston, who took up their abode at Old Brathay, I think about seventy years ago.  They were highwaymen, and lived there some time without being discovered, though it was known that they often disappeared, in a way, and upon errands, which could not be accounted for.  Their horses were noticed as being of a choice breed, and I have heard from the Relph family, one of whom was a saddler in the town of Kendal, that they were curious in their saddles, and housings, and accoutrements of their horses.  They, as I have heard, and as was universally believed, were, in the end, both taken and hanged.

[15] Sir George Vandeput.

Tall was her stature, her complexion dark, and saturnine.—­This person lived at Town-End, and was almost our next neighbour.  I have little to notice concerning her beyond what is said in the poem.  She was a most striking instance how far a woman may surpass in talent, in knowledge, and culture of mind, those with and among whom she lives, and yet fall below them in Christian virtues of the heart and spirit.  It seemed almost, and I say it with grief, that in proportion as she excelled in the one, she failed in the other.  How frequently has one to observe in both sexes the same thing, and how mortifying is the reflection!