large/10244/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_10_dunsany_64kb_8
large/10244/unhappy_far-off_things_1701_librivox_64kb_mp3/unhappyfaroffthings_10_dunsany_64kb
English
10244
A few yards, higher up and all was desolation, a little further along a lonely road and you saw Albert mourning over irreparable vistas of ruin and wasted fields; but the little valley ran into the wood of Bécourt and sheltered there, and there you saw scarcely any signs of war. A FEW YARDS HIGHER UP AND ALL WAS DESOLATION A LITTLE FARTHER ALONG A LONELY ROAD AND YOU SAW ALBERT MOURNING OVER IRREPARABLE VISTAS OF RUIN AND WASTED FIELDS BUT THE LITTLE VALLEY RAN INTO THE WOOD OF BEY COUR AND SHELTERED THERE AND THERE YOU SAW SCARCELY ANY SIGNS OF WAR
 some magician had mixed. Picture some magician of old in his sombre wonderful, chamber wishing dreams to transport him far off to delectable valleys. He sits him down and writes out a spell on parchment, slowly and with effort of aged memory, though he remembered it easily once. The shadows of crocodiles and antique gods flicker on walls and ceiling from a gusty flame as he writes; and in the end he writes the spell out wrongly and mixes up with the valleys where he would rest dark bits of the regions of Hell. So one sees Albert again and its Happy Valley. I do not know which the Happy Valley is, for so many little valleys run in and out about Albert; and with a little effort of imagination, having only seen them full of the ruin of war, one can fancy any of them being once named happy. Yet one there is away to the east of Albert, which even up to last autumn seemed able to bear this name, so secluded it was in that awful garden of Mars; a tiny valley running into the wood of Bécourt. PELLS RATHER THAT SOME MAGICIAN HAD MIXED PICTURES SOME MAGICIAN OF OLD IN HIS SOMBRE WONDERFUL CHAMBER WISHING DREAMS TO TRANSPORT HIM FAR OFF TO DELECTABLE VALLEYS HE SITS HIM DOWN AND WRITES OUT A SPELL ON PARCHMENT SLOWLY AND WITH EFFORT OF AGED MEMORY THOUGH HE REMEMBERED IT EASILY ONCE THE SHADOWS OF CROCODILES AND ANTIQUE GODS FLICKER ON WALLS AND CEILING FROM A GUSTY FLAME AS HE WRITES AND IN THE END HE WRITES THE SPELL OUT WRONGLY AND MIXES UP WITH THE VALLEYS WHERE HE WOULD REST DARK BITS OF THE REGIONS OF HELL SO ONE SEES ALBERT AGAIN AND ITS HAPPY VALLEY I DO NOT KNOW WHICH THE HAPPY VALLEY IS FOR SO MANY LITTLE VALLEYS RUN IN AND OUT ABOUT ALBERT AND WITH A LITTLE EFFORT OF IMAGINATION HAVING ONLY SEEN THEM FULL OF THE RUIN OF WAR ONE CAN FANCY ANY OF THEM BEING ONCE NAMED HAPPY YET ONE THERE IS AWAY TO THE EAST OF ALBERT WHICH EVEN UP TO LAST AUTUMN SEEMED ABLE TO BEAR THIS NAME SO SECLUDED IT WAS IN THAT AWFUL GARDEN OF MARS A TINY VALLEY RUNNING INTO THE WOOD OF BE COUR
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