Strange Roads
less, a white track on a wild, silent hill. The down fell away steeply on one side, and I noticed, as I went along, that little paths went twisting and winding down the turf, pausing by very ancient, low, twisted thorns, and then trickling and turning away towards the dimness of the valley. Somehow, I know not why, these queer, winding paths by the old thorns made my companion and myself think of the People—that is, the fairies—and we turned back again towards Marlborough. And suddenly, quite instantly, without any preparation of a distant sound, soft at first, and growing louder by
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