a big flimsy newspaper blown along the road by the wind.
This unpromising-looking person at once told us that there was
a place where we could stay; he knew it well, for it happened
to be his father's house and his own home. It was away at the
other end of the village. His people had given accommodation
to strangers before, and would be glad to receive us and make
us comfortable.

Surprised, and a little doubtful of our good fortune, I asked
my young man if he could explain the fact that so many of his
neighbours had assured us that no accommodation was to be had
in the village except at the inn. He did not make a direct
reply. He said that the ways of the villagers were not the
ways of his people. He and all his house cherished only kind
feelings towards their neighbours; whether those feelings were
returned or not, it was not for him to say. And there was
something else. A small appointment which would keep a man
from want for the term of his natural life, without absorbing
all his time, had become vacant in the village. Several of
the young men in the place were anxious to have it; then he,
too, came forward as a candidate, and all the others jeered at
him and tried to laugh him out of it. He cared nothing for
that, and when the examination came off he proved the best man
and got the place. He had fought his fight and had overcome
all his enemies; if they did not like him any the better for
his victory, and did and said little things to injure him, he
did not mind much, he could afford to forgive them.

Having finished his story, he said good-bye, and went his way,
blown, as it were, along the road by the wind.