I saw "moors" now.
"The best part of it is the air, though," she said.
The air was, in fact, wind; but of a dry, soft, exhilarating kind.

It seemed to get into our heads, and we joined hands and ran wildly down the steep hill together.
"What fun!" Eleanor cried, as we paused to gain breath at the bottom.
"Now you've come there'll be four of us to run downhill.

We shall nearly stretch across the road." At last we came to a stone bridge which spanned the river.

It was not a very wide stream, and it was so broken with grey boulders, and clumps of rushes and overhanging ferns, that one only caught sight of the water here and there, in tiny torrents and lakes among the weeds.
My delight was boundless.

I can neither forget nor describe those first experiences of real country life, when Eleanor and I rambled about together.