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"The last streaks of crimson were fading in the sky when I read the concluding lines of the shepherd-boy's song 'Fulness to such a burden is, That go on pilgrimage, Here little, and hereafter bliss, Is best from age to age. "'Here little, and hereafter bliss! "It is not always easy to realize what one believes.
The morning breeze coming fresh from the newly ploughed land, the sweet and tender smell of the flowering mustard, the shepherd-boy's flute sounding in the distance, even the creaking noise of the bullock-cart, as it groaned over the broken village road, filled my world with delight.
"Some man will be sure to put his foot on you, soon or late." "What, do you threaten me?" roared Meadows. "No, sir," said Isaac, gently but steadily. "I but tell you what these old eyes have seen in every nation, and read in books that never lie. Goliath defied armies, yet he fell like a pigeon by a shepherd-boy's sling. Samson tore a lion in pieces with his hands, but a woman laid him low.
Chrif crept to the shepherd-boy's side and read over his shoulder. This is what he read: "Beyond the setting of the sun lies the New Land. Here are mountains, forests, and mighty rivers. The sands of the streams are golden; the trees grow wonderful fruit; the mountains hide strange monsters. Upon a high pillar near the coast is the famous pot of gold." "Oh, where is this country?" cried Chrif.
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