His figure was outlined sharply against the sky, his head thrown backward a little, as he gazed, evidently with the keenest zest, on the breezy flat before him.

His hair--a little darker than it used to be, but of the true Saxon colour still, and curly as ever--was blown about by the wind, under his broad hat.

His whole appearance was full of life, health, energy, and enjoyment.
I thought any father might have been proud of such a son, any sister of such a brother, any young girl of such a lover.

Ay, that last tie, the only one of the three that was possible to him--I wondered how long it would be before times changed, and I ceased to be the only one who was proud of him.
We drove on a little further, and came to the chief landmark of the high moorland--a quaint hostelry, called the "Bear." Bruin swung aloft pole in hand, brown and fierce, on an old-fashioned sign, as he and his progenitors had probably swung for two centuries or more.
"Is this Enderley ?" I asked.
"Not quite, but near it.

You never saw the sea?
Well, from this point I can show you something very like it.