uld not rise to trouble his neighbours for help; so
weak that it was lifting a mountain to get up from his bed; so hopeless
of succour that the last spark of distraught wisdom perching on his
brains advised him to lie where he was and trouble not himself, since
peace at least he could command, before he passed upon the black
highroad men call our kingdom of peace: ay, he lay there. Now it chanced
that this man had a mess to cook for his nourishment. And life said,
Do it, and death said, To what end? He wrestled with the stark limbs of
death, and cooked the mess; and that done he had no strength remaining
to him to consume it, but crept to his bed like the toad into winter.
Now, meanwhile a steam arose from the mess, and he lay stretched. So it
befel that the birds of prey of the region scented the mess, and they
descended and thronged at that man's windows. And the man's neighbours
looked up at them, for it was the sign of one who is fit for the beaks
of birds, lying unburied. Fail to spread the pall one hour where suns
are decisive, and the pall comes down out of heaven! They said, The man
is dead within. And they went to his room, and saw him and succoured
him. They lifted him out of death by the last uncut thread.

'Now, my Jenny Weigh-words, Jenny Halt-there! was it they who saved the
man, or he that saved himself? The man taxed his expiring breath to sow
seed of life. Lydiard shall put it into verse for a fable in song for
our people. I say it is a good fable, and sung spiritedly may serve for
nourishment, and faith in work, to many of our poor fainting fellows!
Now you?'

Jenny said: 'I think it is a good fable of self-help. Does it quite
illustrate the case? I mean, the virtue of impatience. But I like
the fable and the moral; and I think it would do good if it were made
popular, though it would be hard to condense it to a song.'

'It would be hard! ay, then we do it forthwith. And you shall compose
the music. As for the "case of impatience," my dear, you tether the
soaring universal to your pet-lamb's post, the special. I spoke of seed
sown. I spoke of the fruits of energy and resolution. Cared I for
an apology? I took the blows as I take hail from the clouds--which
apologize to you the moment you are in shelter, if you laugh at them.
So, good night to that matter! Are we to have rain this evening? I must
away into Bevisham to the Workmen's Hall, and pay the men.'

'There will not be rain; there will be frost