When, years ago, I was too weak to walk, I knew, by crawling, every inch of the soft, green, mossy, daisy-patterned carpet, bounded by its broad gravel walk; and above that, apparently shut in as with an impassable barrier from the outer world, by a three-sided fence, the high wall, the yew-hedge, and the river.
John Halifax's comprehensive gaze seemed to take in all.
"Have you lived here long ?" he asked me.
"Ever since I was born." "Ah!--well, it's a nice place," he repeated, somewhat sadly.

"This grass plot is very even--thirty yards square, I should guess.

I'd get up and pace it; only I'm rather tired." "Are you?
Yet you would carry--" "Oh--that's nothing.

I've often walked farther than to-day.

But still it's a good step across the country since morning." "How far have you come ?" "From the foot of those hills--I forget what they call them--over there.