The Broad Highway

Now, when the prayer was ended, I turned my back upon the

lightening east and set off along the lane.

But, as I went, I heard one hailing me, and glancing round, saw

that in the hedge was a wicket-gate, and over this gate a man was

leaning. A little, thin man with the face of an ascetic, or

mediaeval saint, a face of a high and noble beauty, upon whose

scholarly brow sat a calm serenity, yet beneath which glowed the

full, bright eye of the man of action.

"Good morning, friend!" said be; "welcome to my solitude. I wish

you joy of this new day of ours; it is cloudy yet, but there is a

rift down on the horizon--it will be a fair day, I think."

"On the contrary, sir," said I, "to me there are all the

evidences of the bad weather continuing. I think it will be a

bad day, with rain and probably thunder and lightning! Good

morning, sir!"

"Stay!" cried he as I turned away, and, with the word, set his

hand upon the gate, and, vaulting nimbly over, came towards me,

with a broad-brimmed straw hat in one hand and a long-stemmed

wooden pipe in the other.

"Sir," said he, "my cottage is close by; you look warn and jaded.

Will you not step in and rest awhile?"

"Thank you, sir; but I must be upon my way."

"And whither lies your way?"

"To Sissinghurst, sir."

"You have a long walk before you, and, with your permission, I

will accompany you a little way."

"With pleasure, sir!" I answered, "though I fear you will find me

a moody companion, and a somewhat silent one; but then, I shall

be the better listener, so light your pipe, sir, and, while you

smoke, talk."

"My pipe!" said he, glancing down at it; "ah! yes--I was about to

compose my Sunday evening's sermon."

"You are a clergyman, sir?"

"No, no--a preacher--or say rather--a teacher, and a very humble

one, who, striving himself after Truth, seeks to lend such aid to

others as he may."

"Truth!" said I; "what is Truth?"

"Truth, sir, is that which can never pass away; the Truth of Life

is Good Works, which abide everlastingly."

"Sir," said I, "you smoke a pipe, I perceive, and should,

therefore, be a good preacher; for smoking begets thought--"

"And yet, sir, is not to act greater than to think?"