Bersham

Too much was to be seen and too much comprehended on the top of a hill.

Gradually he came down into the valley towards Bersham, and passing a little plantation of firs and cherries bordered all round with violets, he decided to shelter inside it and eat his lunch.

But on entering it he found it was a cold and gloomy pit scattered with old tin cans.

The ground was completely covered with melancholy ivy which had wrapped itself about the trunks of the old fir trees and slender larches so that they rose around him like funeral pillars round a corpse.