No mere words can depict the charm and beauty of Wenmere Woods.

No one can thoroughly appreciate them who has not actually seen them.

No one who has seen them can forget them.

To see them was to stand with a glad heart, speechless, wide-eyed, wondering, and thanking God for such a sanctuary, yet half incredulous that such a spot was real, was there always, untouched, undefiled, waiting for one.

It might have been a fairy place, that would fade and vanish as soon as one turned one's eyes away.
The woods were of no great extent, the trees were of no great size, but, tall and graceful, they clothed the side of the hill without a break down to the very edge of the river which ran through a valley which was fairyland itself, and on the opposite side stretched away, almost from the river's brink, up, and up, and up, until to all seeming they met the sky.