"Glorious, glorious!" he murmured, "and so few abroad to see it. How the spirit of peace is brooding over river and land! Marvellous are Thy works, O Lord, and Thy mercies are renewed every morning."
He was aroused from his meditation by the sound of foot-steps upon the road. Glancing quickly around, he saw a tall, powerfully-built man approaching, carrying in his right hand a large stick, which he brought down upon the ground with a resounding thump. His clothes were rough; a heavy pair of boots encased his feet, while an old soft felt hat covered a head crowned with a wealth of iron-grey hair. He seemed like a veritable patriarch of ancient Hebrew days, and this likeness was intensified by his aquiline nose, keen eagle-like eyes, and a long beard sweeping his expansive chest. A smile lightened his face as he approached.
"Good mornin', parson," was his cheery greeting. "Ye're abroad early."
"Oh, good morning, captain," was the hearty reply. "We seem to be the only persons astir, eh?"
"More's the pity, parson. Don't see the like of that every day," and the captain waved his stick through the air. "Fine sight, that."
"It certainly is," the clergyman assented, "and how few are abroad to see it. But say, captain, you haven't seen anything of my cow, have you?"
"Ho, ho, that's a sudden jump, isn't it, parson?"
"A sudden what?"
"A sudden jump from the sublime to the ridiculous; from a scene like that to a cow."
"Not when you have no milk or cream, captain. Brindle has broken out of the pasture, and I have no idea where she can be."