A moment later, and I stood within the glen.
The world of human activity had vanished, shut out of sight and sound by the deepening foliage of the trees behind me.

Overhead hardly a leaf stirred, but the branching boughs spread a marvellous roof between the heavens and the woodland paths, and suffered only a stray flash of light here and there to strike through.

As I advanced slowly along the well-worn path beside the brook, the glen grew more and more narrow, the hillsides more and more precipitous.

In the dusky light that sifted down through the great trees I felt the delicious relief of low tones after the glare of the summer day.

It was another world into which I had come; a world of unbroken repose and silence, a world of sweet and fragrant airs cooled by the mountain rivulet and shielded by the mountain summits and the arching umbrage.
The path vanished at last and nothing remained but the narrow channel of the brook itself, the smooth stones making a precarious and uncertain footing for the adventurous explorer.