Here in the early spring we used to
come and watch the first violet uplifting its head from the dark green
leaves behind the mossy boles, and listen for the first note of the
blackcap, the nightingale's herald, and the first coo of the
wood-pigeons among the bare and newly-budding trees. And here, in the
summer, we used to come as soon as breakfast was over with as many
story-books as we could carry, and sit on the grass and revel in the
wonders of the _Arabian Nights_. the _Tales of the Genii_, and the
_Seven Champions of Christendom_, till all the leafy alleys of the
wood were glittering with armed knights and Sinbads and Aladdins. The
story of Camaralzaman and Badoura was, I think, Winnie's chief
favourite. She could repeat it almost word for word. The idea of the
two lovers being carried to each other by genii through the air and
over the mountain tops had an especial fascination for her. I was
Camaralzaman and she Badoura, and the genii would carry me to her as
she sat by Knockers' Llyn, or, as she called it, Llyn Coblynau, on
the lower slopes of Snowdon.
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