"First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea."
Hoel now spoke again in the same strange jargon as before, composed of British, or what we should call Welsh, and a little Latin. It was the dialect of those parts of Britain where the Romans had established their colonies and introduced their tongue. Be it noted, we are at this moment near the Roman colonies of Uxella, or Bridgewater, Ad Aquas, or Wells, and Ischalis, or Ilchester.
"So you are going to settle down there," remarked Hoel. "Won't you offer some sacrifice on first sighting the place?"
"We have no means of sacrificing this evening, friend," answered St. Joseph calmly, "nor to-morrow morning, I fear, unless we obtain materials, which at present we lack."
"Means!—materials!" said Hoel, musing with himself. "Well, every nation, I take it, has its own customs. But I know those who would not be long without providing the materials."
St. Joseph wished to ascertain what was passing in the man's mind. The zeal which urged St. Paul to become all things to all men, that he might save all, burned in the holy missionary's bosom. It made him seek out all that might serve the purpose of his coming. He had everything to learn: language, habits of thought, customs of social life, and the very observances of British heathenism.
"And how," he asked, "would you offer a sacrifice, good friend, when you had nothing to offer it with?"
"I? Nay, I could not. What good would a sacrifice be from a peasant like me?"
"To pray is to make an offering, is it not?"