We make
our own conditions, it is true, and these react and have a deadening
effect on us in the long run, but we are never wholly deadened by
them--if we be not indeed dead, if the life we live can be called life.
We are told that there are rainless zones on the earth and regions of
everlasting summer: it is hard to believe that the dwellers in such
places can ever think a new thought or do a new thing. The morning rain
did not last very long, and before it had quite ceased I took up my
knapsack and set off towards the sea, determined on this occasion to
make my escape.

Three or four miles from Ottery St. Mary I overtook a cowman driving
nine milch cows along a deep lane and inquired my way of him. He gave me
many and minute directions, after which we got into conversation, and
I walked some distance with him. The cows he was driving were all pure
Devons, perfect beauties in their bright red coats in that greenest
place where every rain-wet leaf sparkled in the new sunlight. Naturally
we talked about the cows, and I soon found that they were his own and
the pride and joy of his life. We walked leisurely, and as the animals
went on, first one, then another would stay for a mouthful of grass,
or to pull down half a yard of green drapery from the hedge. It was so
lavishly decorated that the damage they did to it was not noticeable.
By and by we went on ahead of the cows, then, if one stayed too long or
strayed into some inviting side-lane, he would turn and utter a long,
soft call, whereupon the straggler would leave her browsing and hasten
after the others.

He was a big, strongly built man, a little past middle life and
grey-haired, with rough-hewn face--unprepossessing one would have
pronounced him until the intelligent, kindly expression of the eyes was
seen and the agreeable voice was heard. As our talk progressed and we
found how much in sympathy we were on the subject, I was reminded of
that Biblical expression about the shining of a man's face: "Wine that
maketh glad the heart of man"--I hope the total abstainers will pardon
me--"and oil that maketh his face to shine," we have in one passage.
This rather goes against our British ideas, since we rub no oil or
unguents on our skin, but only soap which deprives it of its natural
oil and too often imparts a dry and hard texture. Yet in that, to us,
disagreeable aspect of the skin caused by foreign fats, there is a
resemblance to the sudden brightening and glory o