With the Gods in Spring
ward over the billows of the land, over those hidden valleys where the little brooks rush clear and swift under the alders, over the hills where the pine trees stand, over the solemn, hanging woods that were still and sombre in their winter wear. We went along our lane, laughing, because we knew—note that "because," atheist—that it was most unlikely that we should ever get to Usk, and because we knew that we should most certainly get there.
Presently the lane grew too probable. It seemed as if it were really leading us in the right direction. This was not to be endured, and so
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