CHAPTER X. 



The Valley of Peace. 



IT is not far to the Valley of Peace. In fact, only eight miles of 

 roadway stretches between it and the city in which I dwell, 

 whilst a short journey by rail leaves a forty minutes' brisk walk to 

 the " haven of rest." In this valley, so pleasant and peaceful, I 

 have spent, for a number of years, all the golden afternoons and 

 evenings of summer on which I could contrive to escape from the 

 noise and bustle of the city. And happy are the memories of those 

 days in late June, in July, in August and in September. Those 

 were sunshiny days when the air hummed with insect life, and the 

 countryside, all leafy and gay with flowers, shimmered in the heat 

 of the summer sun. Those were halcyon days indeed ! 



In the south, a range of hills falls obliquely into the valley, 

 and its slope forms a patchwork of pasture lands and fields of 

 wheat, oats and barley ; whilst beyond the wide, fertile plain a 

 similar ridge of hills lifts itself gradually aloft to the northern skies. 

 And beneath the sweeping uplands, behind which the sun travels 

 daily towards the west, there lies a dainty village in an enviable 

 state of seclusion and tranquillity. So out-of-the-way is the village 

 that, at some remote prehistoric time, a bucolic tribe loving loneli- 

 ness might have migrated to that spot, and, unknown to the outside 

 world, built its huts in a part of the valley whither no stranger 

 would have cause to venture. Mention the name of the settlement 

 to the dwellers in the city, and more likely than not they are 

 unaware of its existence ; but, alas ! as the years pass by, the little 

 settlement is becoming better known, and now many more fresh 

 faces are to be seen there than of yore. 



