Nobody in such a road could be in a hurry.

The quiet was so deep, the free air, the heavy trees, the sunshine, all so full and certain and fixed, one could be sure of finding them the same a hundred years from now.

Nobody ever was in a hurry.

The brown bees came along there, when their work was over, and hummed into the great purple thistles on the road-side in a voluptuous stupor of delight.

The cows sauntered through the clover by the fences, until they wound up by lying down in it and sleeping outright.