There was once a man who lived with his family on a large farm in a fine
valley sheltered by high mountains. The farm had need to be large, for
the family was numerous. There were the old man's children and
grandchildren, and these again had sons and daughters, and they all
lived together, in many huts, which made a village or town. Of course
they all were more or less nearly related to one another, and all called
the old man father. He was their head and chief--their king, and his
word, his commands, were their only laws. He was assisted and advised by
the oldest and wisest among the men, who met regularly to discuss the
family's affairs, and formed a sort of senate or council of elders. When
great things had to be talked over and settled, things which interested
everybody alike, the whole family was called together, and had a
mass-meeting after working hours.

The family knew nothing of the great round world but their own farm. In
fact, they did not care whether there was any world outside of their
mountains, because they had no need of any. All they wanted, for food,
clothing, or shelter, they found or raised on their own land. They had
pure running water to drink and to fish in; woods to hunt in and cut
down for fuel and building timber; meadows for the flocks and herds
which gave them milk and flesh, hides and wool; broad fields stretched
under the sun, green with the tender sprouting crops or golden with the
ripening harvest.

The family had no idea how long they and their forefathers before them
had owned and lived upon the farm. If they ever thought of it at all,
they probably thought they had been there always. Really, it must have
been a very, very long time--they were so thoroughly settled, so well