It was late in the afternoon with the lower tip of the sun just hid behind the far hills and the landscape that he looked upon was soft and beautiful.

The green of spring was deep and tender.
Everything rough or ugly was smoothed away by the first mellow touch of the advancing twilight.

The hills were clothed in the same robe of green that lay over the valleys, and through the center of the circle flowed the deep Kentucky, serene and blue.
While Harry's thoughts at that moment were on war, he really had no feeling against anybody.

It was all general and impersonal.

There is something pure and noble about a boy who comes out of a good home, something lofty to which the man later looks back with pride, not because the boy was wise or powerful, but because his heart was good.
The twilight slowly darkened over green fields and blue river.