Chapter 23

⁠​​​‌​​​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌‌​‌⁠A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white