The world around us was not the world of daylight.

'Twas an alien place, full of weird, evasive enchantment and magicry.
Only in the country can one become truly acquainted with the night.
There it has the solemn calm of the infinite.

The dim wide fields lie in silence, wrapped in the holy mystery of darkness.

A wind, loosened from wild places far away, steals out to blow over dewy, star-lit, immemorial hills.

The air in the pastures is sweet with the hush of dreams, and one may rest here like a child on its mother's breast.
"Isn't it wonderful ?" breathed the Story Girl as we went down the long hill.