“Methinks you neglect your lesson,” said the voice, “and your preceptor uses the rod in order to teach you to be wise and learned.”
“If that be so, I’d rather be ignorant with whole bones, than learned with the lash so frequently used on my back.”
“There is a saying in your country, is there not?” said the voice, “‘spare the rod; spoil the child.’”
“Yes, yes; there is such a proverb, though I believe in it not.”
“What do you then believe in, my child?” asked the voice.
“I believe in gentleness and kindness. The victory that overcometh the world is love. Love will soften the hardest heart, subdue the most stubborn will, and melt the hardest natures like wax is melted in the fire.”
“If you worked hard at your books, and were attentive to your lessons, your master would probably be kind to you. You should remember that youth is the time to acquire knowledge, and that its possession is one of the most pleasurable things on earth.”
“Knowledge might be all you say in its favour, sweet voice, but I care not for it. One day spent on the banks of this beautiful river, or skimming on the bosom of its limpid and crystal waters in some friend’s coracle, from which I often watch the finny tribe below in their plays and gambols—is better to me than a thousand anywhere else. The waters of the Tawe are to me a source of exquisite delight, an unspeakable charm. I could gaze upon them for ever.”
“Ah, comely youth,” said the voice, “you speak what you know, and I must own to being charmed with your enthusiasm. You are young, and your vision is contracted. You are inexperienced; your world is bounded by the surrounding horizon. If you will come with me, I will show you fairer climes than these, more beautiful landscapes, grander hills and mountains; vales infinitely more lovely, and streamlets, brooks and rivers, which surpass in splendour and sublimity all other running waters of the world. Besides, in my country, everything is beautiful. The gold is as abundant there as are the stones on this lowland strand or on ocean’s tidal shore.”
“You have drawn, sweet voice, a charming picture of your country, but where is it? Is it an ideal or a real kingdom? If it be real, I would visit if I knew the way. Pray tell me the road which leads to a world so resplendently beautiful.”