"The sky."
"Well?"
"Well!"
"Have you anything to say?"
"How did these stones come here?"
"Are there other stones like these on the plains?" said I.
"None; and yet there are plenty of strange things on these downs."
"What are they?"
"Strange heaps, and barrows, and great walls of earth built on the tops of hills."
"Do the people of the plain wonder how they came there?"
"They do not."
"Why?"
"They were raised by hands."
"And these stones?"
"How did they ever come here?"
"I wonder whether they are here?" said I.
"These stones?"
"Yes."
"So sure as the world," said the man; "and, as the world, they will stand as long."
"I wonder whether there is a world."
"What do you mean?"
"An earth, and sea, moon and stars, sheep and men."
"Do you doubt it?"
"Sometimes."
"I never heard it doubted before."
"It is impossible there should be a world."
"It a"n"t possible there shouldn"t be a world."
"Just so." At this moment a fine ewe, attended by a lamb, rushed into the circle and fondled the knees of the shepherd. "I suppose you would not care to have some milk," said the man.
"Why do you suppose so?"
"Because, so be, there be no sheep, no milk, you know; and what there ben"t is not worth having."
"You could not have argued better," said I; "that is, supposing you have argued; with respect to the milk you may do as you please."
"Be still, Nanny," said the man; and producing a tin vessel from his scrip, he milked the ewe into it. "Here is milk of the plains, master,"
said the man, as he handed the vessel to me.
"Where are those barrows and great walls of earth you were speaking of?"
said I, after I had drank some of the milk; "are there any near where we are?"
"Not within many miles; the nearest is yonder away," said the shepherd, pointing to the south-east. "It"s a grand place, that, but not like this; quite different, and from it you have a sight of the finest spire in the world."
"I must go to it," said I, and I drank the remainder of the milk; "yonder, you say."
"Yes, yonder; but you cannot get to it in that direction, the river lies between."
"What river?"
"The Avon."
"Avon is British," said I.
"Yes," said the man, "we are all British here."
"No, we are not," said I.
"What are we then?"
"English."
"A"n"t they one?"
"No."
"Who were the British?"
"The men who are supposed to have worshipped G.o.d in this place, and who raised these stones."
"Where are they now?"
"Our forefathers slaughtered them, spilled their blood all about, especially in this neighbourhood, destroyed their pleasant places, and left not, to use their own words, one stone upon another."