An earth and sea, moon and stars, sheep and men."

"Do you doubt it?"

"Sometimes."

"I never heard it doubted before."

"It is impossible there should be a world."

"It a'n't possible there shouldn't be a world."

"Just so." At this moment a fine ewe attended by a lamb, rushed into the
circle and fondled the knees of the shepherd. "I suppose you would not
care to have some milk," said the man.

"Why do you suppose so?"

"Because, so be, there be no sheep, no milk, you know; and what there
ben't is not worth having."

"You could not have argued better," said I; "that is, supposing you have
argued; with respect to the milk, you may do as you please."

"Be still, Nanny," said the man; and producing a tin vessel from his
scrip, he milked the ewe into it. "Here is milk of the plains, master,"
said the man, as he handed the vessel to me.

"Where are those barrows and great walls of earth you were speaking of,"
said I, after I had drank some of the milk; "are there any near where we
are?"

"Not within many miles; the nearest is yonder away," said the shepherd,
pointing to the south-east. "It's a grand place, that, but not like
this; quite different, and from it you have a sight of the finest spire
in the world."

"I must go to it," said I, and I drank the remainder of the milk;
"yonder, you say."

"Yes, yonder; but you cannot get to it in that direction, the river lies
between."

"What river?"

"The Avon."

"Avon is British," said I.

"Yes," said the man, "we are all British here."

"No, we are not," said I.

"What are we then?"

"English."

"A'n't they one?"

"No."

"Who were the British?"

"The men who are supposed to have worshipped God in this place, and who
raised these stones."

"Where are they now?"

"Our forefathers slaughtered them, spilled their blood all about,
especially in this neighbourhood, destroyed their pleasant places, and
left not, to use their own words, one stone upon another."

"Yes, they did," said the shepherd, looking aloft at the transverse
stone.

"And it is well for them they did; whenever that stone, which English
hands never raised, is by English hands thrown down, woe, woe, woe to the
English race; spare it, English! Hengist spared it!--Here is sixpence."

"I won't have it," said the man.

"Why not?"

"You talk so prettily about these stones; you seem to know all about
them."

"I never receive presents; with respect to the stones, I say with