" But he lives still in
the young God who is born among men. The gods cannot die, nor can
we nor anything that has life. Now I must go in.
I sat long in the moonlight thinking. The whole camp was sunk in
sleep and the young dawn was waking upon the peaks when I turned
in.
The days that were left we spent in wandering up the Lidar River
to the hills that are the first ramp of the ascent to the great
heights. We found the damp corners where the mushrooms grow like
pearls - the mushrooms of which she said - "To me they have
always been fairy things. To see them in the silver-grey dew of
the early mornings - mysteriously there like the manna in the
desert - they are elfin plunder, and as a child I was half afraid
of them. No wonder they are the darlings of folklore, especially
in Celtic countries where the Little People move in the
starlight. Strange to think they are here too among strange
gods!"
We climbed to where the wild peonies bloom in glory that few eyes
see, and the rosy beds of wild sweet strawberries ripen. Every
hour brought with it some new delight, some exquisiteness of
sight or of words that I shall remember for ever.
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