hould never want to roam further afield than the
annual cattle fair; should be sufficiently stayed with that perpetual
struggle against weald and weather. It was just that tussle which, by
keeping the body hard and the mind stimulated, made the content
possible. Ishmael had up till now asked for nothing better, and so far,
so good. But, as the Parson told himself, the time would come when he
would demand more, and then, for lack of knowing other possibilities, he
might slake himself with whatever was near at hand and slowly sink into
the things of the soil till he was smothered with their reek. Up till
now he had spiritualised the land by his wrestling with it, but now that
some measure of success, enough to make the struggle less a thing that
must not be relaxed for a day, had come, now was the time when the
reverse process might begin unseen.

Cloom had undergone a wonderful regeneration, though at present it went
only skin-deep, and if left to herself she would soon relapse into
savagery. Ground that had been furze-ridden within the memory of man now
yielded roots and grain, though not yet richly; the stubborn furze had
been burnt and hacked and torn up, the thorns and thistles, the docks
and sorrel, had been patiently attacked until they too yielded, the fine
clinging roots of the innocent-looking pink-faced centaury and the more
blatant charlock had been eliminated from the tenacious soil; while the
pale golden cows of alien breed waxed fat and gave rich milk only a few
tones paler than their own smooth flanks.

All this was in the main Ishmael's work; and his blunders had been
few--he had a genius for the land. It had been hard work though it meant
joy, and left not much time or ease of limb for recreation. It had been
in that respect the Parson met difficulties. There was hunting in
season, and Ishmael was a keen rider to hounds, in spite of his aversion
to slaughter of any kind, which upon the farm was the source of not
unkindly mirth amongst the men. They could not yield of their fullest
respect and nothing of comprehension to a master who was never present
when his own pigs were killed, beyond one occasion when he attended to
assure himself that all was done in the most merciful way and had ended
by being violently sick into the bowl of pig's blood. In hunting Ishmael
found, like many another, that his own excitement helped him to bear
with the thought of the fox's pain, though he was always glad, in guilty
s