Explore "Carrots" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You may laugh, my little people, / But be sure my story's true; / For I vow by yon church steeple, / I was once a child like you. " / _The Land of Long Ago._
If any of you children have travelled much, have you noticed that on a long journey there seem to come points, turns -- I hardly know what to call them -- after which the journey seems to go on differently. More quickly, perhaps more cheerfully, or possibly less so, but certainly _differently_. Looking back afterwards you see it was so -- "from the time we all looked out of the window at the ruined abbey we seemed to get on so much faster," you would say, or -- "after the steamer had passed the Spearhead Point, we began to feel dull and tired, and there was no more sunshine."