With your permission then
we will push due north through Greymoor Wood.
We are through and on the road, but it is getting late. I et us hurry
on. It would be tempting to wander down to that stream and follow its
banks for a little; it would be pleasant to turn into that
"unmetalled, unfenced" road--ah, doesn't one know those roads?--and
let it carry us to the village of Milden, rich in both telegraph
office and steeple. There is also, no more than two miles from where
we stand, a contour of 600 ft.--shall we make for the view at the top
of that? But no, perhaps you are right. We had best be getting home
now. It is growing chilly; the sun has gone in; if we lost ourselves
again, we could never find the north. Let us make for the nearest
station. Widdington, isn't it? Three miles away....
There! Now we're home again. And must you really get on with your
work? Well, but it has been a jolly day, hasn't it?
The Lord Mayor
There is a story of a boy who was asked to name ten animals which
inhabit the polar regions.
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