To my surprise, Finch's boy descended; took the pony by the head; and deliberately led him off the high road, and on to the wilderness of grassy hills, on which not so much as a footpath was discernible anywhere, far or near.

The chaise began to heave and roll like a ship on the sea.

It became necessary to hold with both hands to keep my place.

I thought first of my luggage--then of myself.
"How much is there of this ?" I asked.
"Three mile on't," answered Finch's boy.
I insisted on stopping the ship--I mean the chaise--and on getting out.
We tied my luggage fast with a rope; and then we went on again, the boy at the pony's head, and I after them on foot.
Ah, what a walk it was! What air over my head; what grass under my feet! The sweetness of the inner land, and the crisp saltness of the distant sea, were mixed in that delicious breeze.

The short turf, fragrant with odorous herbs, rose and fell elastic, underfoot.