Sitting upon the dwarf wall adjoining the garden he smoked in peace, watching the yellow-brown of gorse-strewn hills against blue sky counterchange their colouring until they stood out misty blue against a yellow sunset. Then night shut down, and its wondrous stillness magnified distant sounds to importance. Far down the valley some nightjar's endless whirr replaced the cuckoo's husky note of June; amongst the rocks and bushes by the stream a fox barked hoarsely, and up the hill behind the house a leveret squealed in fear. His tobacco soothed him; the air was sweet with gorse and heather bloom, and a downward waft brought the brave smell of wood-smoke from his new-lit fire. Every sound and scent of the night recalled his boyhood, and he was filled with silent thankfulness for rest; but through all nature's voices he heard again that softer voice that had pleaded for him the night before, and each new star that, faintly twinkling in the blue, waxed slowly as the night drew on, recalled the brightness of a pair of eyes.
Lethbridge of the moor
By Maurice Drake

File:Marcus Haeselich Moor.jpg
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