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Come; sit over here; because I'm quite crazy to tell you everything as usual--about how I played marbles with the children--yes, indeed!--down on my knees and shooting hard! Oh, it is divine, that sea-girdled, wind-drenched waste of moor and thicket!--the strange little stunted forests in the hollows of the miniature hills--do you remember?
The trees, you know, grow only to the wind-level, then spread out like those grotesque trees in fairy-haunted forests--so old, so fantastic are these curious patches of woods that I am for ever watching to see something magic moving far in the twilight of the trees!.

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