ere feeling tired, or anything like that, Mister Honey," said
the woman, "you could climb up into the little cart, and nobody would
say a word to you, for I can see that you are not used to travelling."

"I am not indeed, ma'am," he replied; "this is the first time I ever
came on a journey, and if it wasn't for Angus Og I wouldn't put a foot
out of my own place for ever."

"Put Angus Og out of your head, my dear," she replied, "for what would
the likes of you and me be saying to a god. He might put a curse on us
would sink us into the ground or burn us up like a grip of straw. Be
contented now, I'm saying, for if there is a woman in the world who
knows all things I am that woman myself, and if you tell your trouble
to me I'll tell you the thing to do just as good as Angus himself, and
better perhaps."

"That is very interesting," said the Philosopher. "What kind of things
do you know best?"

"If you were to ask one of them two men walking beside the ass they'd
tell you plenty of things they saw me do when they could do nothing
themselves. When there wasn't a road to take anywhere I showed them a
road, and when there wasn't a bit of food in the world I gave them food,
and when they were bet to the last I put shillings in their hands, and
that's the reason they wanted to marry me."

"Do you call that kind of thing wisdom?" said the Philosopher.

"Why wouldn't I?" said she. "Isn't it wisdom to go through the world
without fear and not to be hungry in a hungry hour?"

"I suppose it is," he replied, "but I never thought of it that way
myself."

"And what would you call wisdom?"

"I couldn't rightly say now," he replied, "but I think it was not to
mind about the world, and not to care whether you were hungry or not,
and not to live in the world at all but only in your own head, for the
world is a tyrannous place. You have to raise yourself above things
instead of letting things raise themselves above you. We must not be
slaves to each other, and we must not be slaves to our necessities
either. That is the problem of existence. There is no dignity in life at
all if hunger can shout 'stop' at every turn of the road and the day's
journey is measured by the distance between one sleep and the next
sleep. Life is all slavery, and Nature is driving us with the whips of
appetite and weariness; but when a slave rebels he ceases to be a slave,
and when we are too hungry to live we can die and have our laugh. I
believe that N