Travels with a donkey in the Cevennes . EY wall—black sheep and white, bleating withone accord like the birds in spring, andeach one accompanying himself upon thesheep-bell round his neck. It made apathetic concert, all in treble. A littlehigher, and I passed a pair of men in atree with pruning-hooks, and one of themwas singing the music of a bourrce. Stillfurther, and when I was already threadingthe birches, the crowing of cocks camecheerfully up to my ears, and along withthat the voice of a flute discoursing adeliberate and plaintive air from one ofthe upland villages. I pictured to my-self
Travels with a donkey in the Cevennes . EY wall—black sheep and white, bleating withone accord like the birds in spring, andeach one accompanying himself upon thesheep-bell round his neck. It made apathetic concert, all in treble. A littlehigher, and I passed a pair of men in atree with pruning-hooks, and one of themwas singing the music of a bourrce. Stillfurther, and when I was already threadingthe birches, the crowing of cocks camecheerfully up to my ears, and along withthat the voice of a flute discoursing adeliberate and plaintive air from one ofthe upland villages. I pictured to my-self some grizzled, apple-cheeked, countryschoolmaster fluting in his bit of a gardenin the clear autumn sunshine. All thesebeautiful and interesting sounds filled myheart with an unwonted expectation; andit appeared to me that, once past thisrange which I was mounting, I shoulddescend into the garden of the world. Norwas I deceived, for 1 was now done withrains and winds and a bleak country. Thefirst part of my journey ended here; and114. ^^•^ _\ ^ c~3^ •e^- 4i
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Keywords: ., bookauthorstevensonrobertlouis1, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900
