The picture of the encampment may serve as an example of Borrovian prose, nervous, unembarrassed, and graphic.
One day it happened, being on my rambles, I entered a green lane which I had never seen before.

At first it was rather narrow, but as I advanced it became considerably wider.

In the middle was a drift-way with deep ruts, but right and left was a space carpeted with a sward of trefoil and clover.

There was no lack of trees, chiefly ancient oaks, which, flinging out their arms from either side, nearly formed a canopy and afforded a pleasing shelter from the rays of the sun, which was burning fiercely above.

Suddenly a group of objects attracted my attention.