"Never was much at religion meself," he said, lazily altering his
position, "but Mrs. Bob was the one to make you see things right off."
Lazily and without stirring we gave our awakened attention, and after a
quiet pause the droning Scotch voice went on, too contented to raise
itself above a drone: "Can't exactly remember how she put it; seemed as
though you'd only got to hoe your own row the best you can, and lend
others a hand with theirs, and just let God see after the rest."
Quietly, as the droning voice died away, we slipped back into our
silence, lazily dreaming on, with Dan's words lingering in our minds,
until, in a little while, it seemed as though the dancing tree-tops, the
circling Bromli kites, every rustling sound and movement about us, had
taken them up and were shouting them to the echo. "How much you will be
able to teach the poor, dark souls of the stockmen," a well-meaning
Southerner had said, with self-righteous arrogance; and in the brilliant
glory of that bush Sabbath, one of the "poor, dark souls" had set the air
vibrating with the grandest, noblest principles of Christianity summed up
into one brief sentence resonant with its ringing commands: Hoe your own
row the best you can.
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