There was a cool fresh breeze: and I often think one can walk so much further by night than by day.

For some time, listening to John's talk about the stars--he had lately added astronomy to the many things he tried to learn--and recalling with him all that we had heard and seen this day, I hardly felt my weariness.
But gradually it grew upon me; my pace lagged slower and slower--even the scented air of the midsummer-night imparted no freshness.

John wound his young arm, strong and firm as iron, round my waist, and we got on awhile in that way.
"Keep up, Phineas.

There's a hayrick near.

I'll wrap you in my coat, and you shall rest there: an hour or two will not matter now--we shall get home by daybreak." I feebly assented; but it seemed to me that we never should get home--at least I never should.