the old donkey which got their living there.

From the top of the hill, beyond the cleft of the river Avon, he
could see the smoke and the church towers of the town of Bristol, and
beyond it, the slime of the water of the Bristol Channel; and nearer,
on one side, the spire of Elmwood Church looked up, and, on the
other, the woods round Elmwood House, and these ran out as it were,
lengthening and narrowing into a wooded cleft or gulley, Hermit's
Gulley, which broke the side of the hill just below where Steadfast
stood, and had a little clear stream running along the bottom.

Steadfast's little herd knew the time of day as well as if they all
had watches in their pockets, and they never failed to go down and
have a drink at the brook before going back to the farmyard.

They did not need to be driven, but gathered into the rude steep path
that they and their kind had worn in the side of the ravine.
Steadfast followed, looking about him to judge how soon the nuts
would be ripe, while his little rough stiff-haired dog Toby poked
about in search of rabbits or hedgehogs, or the like sport.

Steadfast liked that pathway home beside the stream, as boys do love
running water. Good stones could be got there, water rats might be
chased, there were strawberries on the banks which he gathered and
threaded on stalks of grass for his sisters, Patience and Jerusha.
They used to come with him and have pleasant games, but it was a long
time since Patience had been able to come out, for in the winter, a
grievous trouble had come on the family. The good mother had died,
leaving a little baby of six weeks old, and Patience, who was only
thirteen, had to attend to everything at home, and take care of poor