It came to me early in the day, as we halted in a little glade, gay with willowherb and goldenrod, which hung on a shelf of the hills looking westwards.

The first streamers of morn had gone, the mists had dried up from the valleys, and I found myself looking into a deep cleft and across at a steep pine-clad mountain.

Clearly the valley was split by this mountain into two forks, and I could see only the cool depth of it and catch a gleam of broken water a mile or two below.

But looking more to the north, I saw where the vale opened, and then I had a vision worthy of the name by which Studd had baptized it.

An immense green pasture land ran out to the dim horizon.