are supposed to know nothing. I have already said enough to show how
absurd and insolent is this assumption. My neighbours were few, and
simple-minded; but they possessed many kinds of skill necessary to
their life, they had wisdom and virtue, and upon the whole a kind of
fundamental dignity of nature. They were as shy as woodland creatures
to a stranger's voice; they were highly sensitive to the mere shadow of
a slight, and both suspicious and resentful of patronage; but they met
trust with trust, and where they gave their trust they gave their full
loyalty of friendship. In my youth, as I have said elsewhere, I often
passed a whole day in a forest. I would choose some solitary glade,
where my intrusion was audibly resented by the unseen creatures of the
wood, who fled before me; but when an hour had passed, and the signal
had run through the forest that I meant no harm, those scattered and
astonished creatures reassembled. The whole life of the wood then went
on before my eyes; the birds sang their best for me, the squirrel
performed his innocent gymnastics with an eye to my applause, the very
snake moved less shyly through the grass, as though the word had gone
forth that I was a guest, who must be entertained and made to feel at
home. This experience often recurred to me in my early days at
Thornthwaite. It was some time before I was admitted to the
free-masonry of the scanty social life around me; when at last I had
paid my footing I found that here also was a commonwealth; here also
might be found upon a narrow scale, but in authentic forms,

Piety and fear,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws.