The telegraph wires, bound for the post office of Faery, run through the Enchanted Forest, and the poles in the faint light were like tall crucifixes.

A long way off, through the opening at the end of the Forest, were the little lights of Mitten Island.
"Do you know," said Richard--and this is unfortunately the sort of thing that young men do say at silent and enchanted moments--"that if all the magic in this Forest were collected together and compressed into a liquid form, it would be enough to stop the War in one moment ?" "My hat!" said Sarah Brown.

"In one moment ?" "In one moment." "My hat!" said Sarah Brown.
"The powers of magic haven't been anything like thoroughly estimated even yet," said Richard.
"I suppose the War was made by black magic," suggested Sarah Brown, trying to talk intelligently and to be faithful to her own thoughts at the same time.
"Good Lord, no," replied Richard.

"The worst of this war is that it has nothing whatever to do with magic of any sort.

It was made and is supported by men who had forgotten magic, it is the result of the coming to an end of a spell.