Lavengro Volume II Part 8

"Yes, they did," said the shepherd, looking aloft at the transverse stone.

"And it is well for them they did; whenever that stone, which English hands never raised, is by English hands thrown down, woe, woe, woe to the English race; spare it, Englis.h.!.+ Hengist spared it!--Here is sixpence."

"I won't have it," said the man.

"Why not?"

"You talk so prettily about these stones; you seem to know all about them."

"I never receive presents; with respect to the stones, I say with yourself, How did they ever come here?"

"How did they ever come here?" said the shepherd.

CHAPTER LXI

The River--Arid Downs--A Prospect.

Leaving the shepherd, I bent my way in the direction pointed out by him as that in which the most remarkable of the strange remains of which he had spoken lay. I proceeded rapidly, making my way over the downs covered with coa.r.s.e gra.s.s and fern; with respect to the river of which he had spoken, I reflected that, either by wading or swimming, I could easily transfer myself and what I bore to the opposite side. On arriving at its banks, I found it a beautiful stream, but shallow, with here and there a deep place, where the water ran dark and still.

Always fond of the pure lymph, I undressed, and plunged into one of these gulfs, from which I emerged, my whole frame in a glow, and tingling with delicious sensations. After conveying my clothes and scanty baggage to the farther side, I dressed, and then with hurried steps bent my course in the direction of some lofty ground; I at length found myself on a high road, leading over wide and arid downs; following the road for some miles without seeing anything remarkable, I supposed at length that I had taken the wrong path, and wended on slowly and disconsolately for some time, till, having nearly surmounted a steep hill, I knew at once, from certain appearances, that I was near the object of my search. Turning to the right near the brow of the hill, I proceeded along a path which brought me to a causeway leading over a deep ravine, and connecting the hill with another which had once formed part of it, for the ravine was evidently the work of art. I pa.s.sed over the causeway, and found myself in a kind of gateway which admitted me into a square s.p.a.ce of many acres, surrounded on all sides by mounds or ramparts of earth. {72a} Though I had never been in such a place before, I knew that I stood within the precincts of what had been a Roman encampment, and one probably of the largest size, for many thousand warriors might have found room to perform their evolutions in that s.p.a.ce, in which corn was now growing, the green ears waving in the morning wind.

After I had gazed about the s.p.a.ce for a time, standing in the gateway formed by the mounds, I clambered up the mound to the left hand, and on the top of that mound I found myself at a great alt.i.tude; beneath, at the distance of a mile, was a fair old city, situated amongst verdant meadows, watered with streams, and from the heart of that old city, from amidst mighty trees, I beheld towering to the sky the finest spire in the world.

And after I had looked from the Roman rampart for a long time, I hurried away, and, retracing my steps along the causeway, regained the road, and, pa.s.sing over the brow of the hill, descended to the city of the spire.

{72b}

CHAPTER LXII

The Hostelry--Life Uncertain--Open Countenance--The Grand Point--Thank You, Master--A Hard Mother--Poor Dear!--Considerable Odds--The Better Country--English Fas.h.i.+on--Landlord-looking Person.

And in the old city I remained two days, pa.s.sing my time as I best could--inspecting the curiosities of the place, eating and drinking when I felt so disposed, which I frequently did, the digestive organs having a.s.sumed a tone to which for many months they had been strangers--enjoying at night balmy sleep in a large bed in a dusky room, at the end of a corridor, in a certain hostelry in which I had taken up my quarters--receiving from the people of the hostelry such civility and condescension as people who travel on foot with bundle and stick, but who nevertheless are perceived to be not altogether dest.i.tute of coin, are in the habit of receiving. On the third day, on a fine sunny afternoon, I departed from the city of the spire.

As I was pa.s.sing through one of the suburbs, I saw, all on a sudden, a respectable-looking female fall down in a fit; several persons hastened to her a.s.sistance. "She is dead," said one. "No, she is not," said another. "I am afraid she is," said a third. "Life is very uncertain,"

said a fourth. "It is Mrs. ---," said a fifth; "let us carry her to her own house." Not being able to render any a.s.sistance, I left the poor female in the hands of her townsfolk, and proceeded on my way. I had chosen a road in the direction of the north-west, it led over downs where corn was growing, but where neither tree nor hedge was to be seen; two or three hours' walking brought me to a beautiful valley, abounding with trees of various kinds, with a delightful village at its farthest extremity; pa.s.sing through it I ascended a lofty acclivity, on the top of which I sat down on a bank, and, taking off my hat, permitted a breeze, which swept coolly and refres.h.i.+ngly over the downs, to dry my hair, dripping from the effects of exercise and the heat of the day.

And as I sat there, gazing now at the blue heavens, now at the downs before me, a man came along the road in the direction in which I had hitherto been proceeding: just opposite to me he stopped, and, looking at me, cried--"Am I right for London, master?"

He was dressed like a sailor, and appeared to be between twenty-five and thirty years of age--he had an open manly countenance, and there was a bold and fearless expression in his eye.

"Yes," said I, in reply to his question; "this is one of the ways to London. Do you come from far?"

"From ---," said the man, naming a well-known seaport.

"Is this the direct road to London from that place?" I demanded.

"No," said the man; "but I had to visit two or three other places on certain commissions I was entrusted with; amongst others to ---, where I had to take a small sum of money. I am rather tired, master; and, if you please, I will sit down beside you."

"You have as much right to sit down here as I have," said I, "the road is free for every one; as for sitting down beside me, you have the look of an honest man, and I have no objection to your company."

"Why, as for being honest, master," said the man, laughing and sitting down by me, "I haven't much to say--many is the wild thing I have done when I was younger; however, what is done, is done. To learn, one must live, master; and I have lived long enough to learn the grand point of wisdom."

"What is that?" said I.

"That honesty is the best policy, master."

"You appear to be a sailor," said I, looking at his dress.

"I was not bred a sailor," said the man, "though, when my foot is on the salt water, I can play the part--and play it well too. I am now from a long voyage."

"From America?" said I.

"Farther than that," said the man.

"Have you any objection to tell me?" said I.

"From New South Wales," said the man, looking me full in the face.

"Dear me," said I.

"Why do you say 'Dear me'?" said the man.

"It is a very long way off," said I.

"Was that your reason for saying so?" said the man.

"Not exactly," said I.

"No," said the man, with something of a bitter smile; "it was something else that made you say so; you were thinking of the convicts."

"Well," said I, "what then?--you are no convict."

"How do you know?"

"You do not look like one."

"Thank you, master," said the man, cheerfully; "and, to a certain extent, you are right--bygones are bygones--I am no longer what I was, nor ever will be again; the truth, however, is the truth--a convict I have been--a convict at Sydney Cove."

"And you have served out the period for which you were sentenced, and are now returned?"

"As to serving out my sentence," replied the man, "I can't say that I did; I was sentenced for fourteen years, and I was in Sydney Cove little more than half that time. The truth is that I did the Government a service. There was a conspiracy amongst some of the convicts to murder and destroy--I overheard and informed the Government; mind one thing, however, I was not concerned in it; those who got it up were no comrades of mine, but a b.l.o.o.d.y gang of villains. Well, the Government, in consideration of the service I had done them, remitted the remainder of my sentence; and some kind gentlemen interested themselves about me, gave me good books and good advice, and, being satisfied with my conduct, procured me employ in an exploring expedition, by which I earned money.

In fact, the being sent to Sydney was the best thing that ever happened to me in all my life."