There was a seat under a sycamore tree with honeysuckle climbing over the bars of the back; the spot was near the orchard, but on slightly higher ground.

From our feet the meadow sloped down to the distant brook, the murmur of whose stream as it fell over a bay could be just heard.

Northwards the stars were pale, the sun seems so little below the horizon there that the glow of the sunset and the glow of the dawn nearly meet.

But southwards shone the dull red star of summer--Antares, seen while the wheat ripens and the ruddy and golden tints come upon the fruits.

Then nightly describing a low curve he looks down upon the white shimmering corn, and carries the mind away to the burning sands and palms of the far south.