It was an enchanted
wood. The sun shone down through a hundred feet of silence by little
rounds between the leaves, and there was silence everywhere. In this
wood I sojourned all day long, making slowly westward, till, in the very
midst of it, I found a troubled man. He was a man of middle age, short,
intelligent, fat, and weary. He said to me:
"Have you noticed any special mark upon the trees? A white mark of the
number 90?"
"No," said I. "Are there any wild boars in this forest?"
"Yes," he answered, "a few, but not of use. I am looking for trees
marked in white with the number 90. I have paid a price for them, and I
cannot find them."
I saluted him and went on my way. At last I came to an open clearing,
where there was a town, and in the town I found a very delightful inn,
where they would cook anything one felt inclined for, within reason, and
charged one very moderately indeed. I have retained its name.
By this time I was completely lost, and in the heart of Fairyland, when
suddenly I remembered that everyone that strikes root in Fairyland loses
something, at the least his love and at the worst his soul, and that it
is a perilous business to linger there, so I asked them in that hotel
how they worked it when they wanted to go west into the great towns.
They put me into an omnibus, which charged me fourpence for a journey of
some two miles.
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