, and that something would grow out of it both for
himself and for his companions. So I said, as smilingly as I could, "I
do not indeed know much of the ways of this place, but this I know, that
we must go where we are sent, that no harm can befall us, and that we
are never far away from those whom we love. I myself have lately been
sent to visit this strange land; it seems only yesterday since I left
the mountains yonder, and yet I have seen an abundance of strange and
beautiful things; we must remember that here there is no sickness or
misfortune or growing old; and there is no reason, as there often seemed
to be on earth, why we should fight against separation and departure. No
one can, I think, be hindered here from going where he is bound. So I
believe that you will let the boy go joyfully and willingly, for I am
sure of this, that his journey holds not only great things for himself,
but even greater things for both of you in the future. So be content and
let him depart."

At this the woman said, "Yes, that is right, the stranger is right, and
we must hinder the child no longer. No harm can come of it, but only
good; perhaps he will return, or we may follow him, when the day comes
for that."

I saw that the old man was not wholly satisfied with this. He shook his
head and looked sadly on the boy; and then for a time we sat and talked
of many things. One thing that the old man said surprised me very
greatly. He seemed to have lived many lives, and always lives of labour;
he had grown, I gathered from his simple talk, to have a great love of
the earth, the lives of flocks and herds, and of all the plants that
grew out of the earth or flourished in it. I had thought before, in a
foolish way, that all this might be put away from the spirit, in the
land where there was no need of such things; but I saw now that there
was a claim for labour, and a love of common things, which did not
belong only to the body, but was a real desire of the spirit. He spoke
of the pleasures of tending cattle, of cutting fagots in the forest
woodland among the copses, of ploughing and sowing, with the breath of
the earth about one; till I saw that the toil of the world, which I had
dimly thought of as a thing which no one would do if they were not
obliged, was a real instinct of the spirit, and had its counterpart
beyond the body. I had supposed indeed that in a region where all
troublous accidents of matter were over and done with, and wher