Wells urged this strongly; and despite my eagerness, I felt that he was right.
The horses were unharnessed, and left to browse under the care of the coachman who had driven us.

The provisions were unpacked, and John Hart and Nab Walker spread out a meal on the grass at the foot of a superb cypress which recalled to me the forest odors of Morganton and Pleasant Garden.

We were hungry and thirsty; and food and drink were not lacking.

Then our pipes were lighted to calm the anxious moments of waiting that remained.
Silence reigned within the wood.

The last song of the birds had ceased.