"
I saw that he really meant it, so I climbed back on the seat.
I would have liked to talk to the woman in the kitchen who was
peering out of the window in amazement, but I decided it would
be better to jog on and not waste time. The farmer and I
exchanged friendly salutes, and Parnassus rumbled on.
The morning was so lovely that I did not feel talkative, and
as the Professor seemed pensive I said nothing. But as Peg
plodded slowly up a gentle slope he suddenly pulled a book out
of his pocket and began to read aloud. I was watching the
river, and did not turn round, but listened carefully:
"_Rolling cloud, volleying wind, and wheeling sun--the blue
tabernacle of sky, the circle of the seasons, the sparkling
multitude of the stars--all these are surely part of one
rhythmic, mystic whole. Everywhere, as we go about our small
business, we must discern the fingerprints of the gigantic
plan, the orderly and inexorable routine with neither
beginning nor end, in which death is but a preface to another
birth, and birth the certain forerunner of another death. We
human beings are as powerless to conceive the motive or the
moral of it all as the dog is powerless to understand the
reasoning in his master's mind.
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