“Ay, it’s a fine view from up here, zir, and though I don’t know much about other counties, I don’t s’pose there’s many as can beat this.”
“It is fine,” said Luke, whose thoughts were changed by the brightness of the scene, and the brisk, bracing air sent a thrill of pleasure through his frame.
“They do say, zir, as you can zee a matter of forty mile from a bit higher up yonder on a clear time,” continued the man, who appeared glad of a chance to talk; “but we shan’t zee that, nor half on it, to-day, zir, for there’s a zea-fog coming on, a reg’lar thick one. Look, zir, you can zee it come sweeping along over the zea like zmoke.”
“It is curious,” said Luke, watching the strange phenomenon, as by degrees it blotted out boat after boat, ship after ship, till it reached the land, and seemed to begin ascending the slopes.
“Much as we shall do to reach the prison, zir, before it’s on us,” said the man. “You zee it’s all up-hill, zir, or we could get on faster.”
“But it will not matter, will it?” said Luke, “You know the road?”
“Oh, I know the way well enough, zir, but it comes on zo thick sometimes that all you can do is to get down and lead the horse, feeling like, to keep on the road.”
“But they don’t last long, I suppose?”
“Half-an-hour zome of ’em, zir, zome an hour, zome for a whole day. There’s no telling when a fog comes on how long it’s going to be. All depends on the wind, zir.”
“They are only inconvenient, these fogs, I suppose?” said Luke, as they went on; “there is nothing else to mind.”