So Neepy Thang set out.  He bought the purple ticket at Victoria Station.  He went by Herne Hill, Bromley and Bickley and passed St. Mary Cray.  At Eynsford he changed and taking a footpath along a winding valley went wandering into the hills.  And at the top of a hill in a little wood, where all the anemones long since were over and the perfume of mint and thyme from outside came drifting in with Thang, he found once more the familiar path, age-old and fair as wonder, that leads to the Edge of the World.  Little to him were its sacred memories that are one with the secret of earth, for he was on business, and little would they be to me if I ever put them on paper.  Let it suffice that he went down that path going further and further from the fields we know, and all the way he muttered to himself, “What if the eggs hatch out and it be a bad business!” The glamour that is at all times upon those lonely lands that lie at the back of the chalky hills of Kent intensified as he went upon his journeys.  Queerer and queerer grew the things that he saw by little World-End Path.  Many a twilight descended upon that journey with all their mysteries, many a blaze of stars; many a morning came flaming up to a tinkle of silvern horns; till the outpost elves of Fairyland came in sight and the glittering crests of Fairyland’s three mountains betokened the journey’s end.  And so with painful steps (for the shores of the world are covered with huge crystals) he came to the risky seas of Shiroora Shan and saw them pounding to gravel the wreckage of fallen stars, saw them and heard their roar, those shipless seas that between earth and the fairies’ homes heave beneath some huge wind that is none of our four.  And there in the darkness on the grizzly coast, for darkness was swooping slantwise down the sky as though with some evil purpose, there stood that lonely, gnarled and deciduous tree.  It was a bad place to be found in after dark, and night descended with multitudes of stars, beasts prowling in the blackness gluttered [See any dictionary, but in vain.] at Neepy Thang.  And there on a lower branch within easy reach he clearly saw the Bird of the Difficult Eye sitting upon the nest for which she is famous.  Her face was towards those three inscrutable mountains, far-off on the other side of the risky seas, whose hidden valleys are Fairyland.  Though not yet autumn in the fields we know, it was close on midwinter here, the moment as Thang knew when those eggs hatch out.  Had he miscalculated and arrived a minute too late?  Yet the bird was even now about to migrate, her pinions fluttered and her gaze was toward Fairyland.  Thang hoped and muttered a prayer to those pagan gods whose spite and vengeance he had most reason to fear.  It seems that it was too late or a prayer too small to placate them, for there and then the stroke of midwinter came and the eggs hatched out in the roar of Shiroora Shan or ever the bird was gone with her difficult eye and it was a bad business indeed for Neepy Thang; I haven’t the heart to tell you any more.