He was often tired, and he counted the lamps climbing the hill above him, how many more to pass.

And from the hilltop, on pitch-dark nights, he looked round on the villages five or six miles away, that shone like swarms of glittering living things, almost a heaven against his feet.

Marlpool and Heanor scattered the far-off darkness with brilliance.

And occasionally the black valley space between was traced, violated by a great train rushing south to London or north to Scotland.

The trains roared by like projectiles level on the darkness, fuming and burning, making the valley clang with their passage.