Charles Peters, The girl’s own outdoor book, Philadelphie, J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1889, p. 172.

We lay down on the springy heather, most luxurious of couches, revelling in the floods of sunshine, whilst a gentle breeze fanned our hot faces as we gazed up into the cloudless blue overhead.

We drank from the transparent water, where a tiny waterfall rushed over the stones in mimic wrath.

We watched the caddis-flies and other strange creepy creatures cutting capers in the water all unconscious of the curious eyes marking their every movement, whilst a lark, hidden from view in the clouds, trilled forth its glad song