The lads were eager to spy out the church of Bestwood, far away among the rather crowded country on the left.

They were disgusted that it seemed to stand on a plain.

They saw the hills of Derbyshire fall into the monotony of the Midlands that swept away South.
Miriam was somewhat scared by the wind, but the lads enjoyed it.

They went on, miles and miles, to Whatstandwell.

All the food was eaten, everybody was hungry, and there was very little money to get home with.
But they managed to procure a loaf and a currant-loaf, which they hacked to pieces with shut-knives, and ate sitting on the wall near the bridge, watching the bright Derwent rushing by, and the brakes from Matlock pulling up at the inn.
Paul was now pale with weariness.