But before the carpenter had been gone half an hour footsteps
approached the house, and the shepherd and his dog entered the gate of
the field in which it stood. A fine, big, handsome man looked this
shepherd as he paused to fasten the gate; about thirty years old, fair,
with a florid complexion, blue eyes, and a long, yellowish beard, a face
more remarkable for its kindly good humour than for its intelligence. He
was dressed in a long smock, and he carried a crook, so that there was
no mistaking his occupation, of which, by the way, he was very proud;
his father and his grandfather and their fathers and grandfathers had
been shepherds before him for many generations, and that he should ever
be anything else than a shepherd was the last idea likely to enter John
Shelley's mind. A shepherd by birth and education, he followed his
calling with an ardour which would have amounted to passion in a warmer
temperament. His sheep were his first thought on waking, his last as he
closed his eyes at night, and he understood them and their ways
thoroughly. The life suited him exactly; it might be a lonely life,
wandering for hours on the downs without meeting a living creature day
after day, except, perhaps, occasionally a neighbouring shepherd, but he
was used to it.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88