“This is lovely，” said Lucy to herself. It was cool and fresh； delicious smells were floating everywhere. Somewhere close by she heard the twitter of a nightingale beginning to sing， then stopping， then beginning again. It was a little lighter ahead. She went towards the light and came to a place where there were fewer trees， and whole patches or pools of moonlight， but the moonlight and the shadows so mixed that you could hardly be sure where anything was or what it was. At the same moment the nightingale， satisfied at last with his tuning up， burst into full song.
