Parker, Gilbert, 1860-1932 / 2008-06-16 00:00:00

EBOOK PARABLES OF A PROVINCE ***


Produced by David Widger


PARABLES OF A PROVINCE
By Gilbert Parker

THE GOLDEN PIPES
THE GUARDIAN OF THE FIRE
BY THAT PLACE CALLED PERADVENTURE
THE SINGING OF THE BEES
THE WHITE OMEN
THE SOJOURNERS
THE TENT OF THE PURPLE MAT
THERE WAS A LITTLE CITY
THE FORGE IN THE VALLEY


THE GOLDEN PIPES
They hung all bronzed and shining, on the side of Margath Mountain--the
tall and perfect pipes of the organ which was played by some son of God
when the world was young. At least Hepnon the cripple said this was so,
when he was but a child, and when he got older he said that even now a
golden music came from the pipes at sunrise and sunset. And no one
laughed at Hepnon, for you could not look into the dark warm eyes,
dilating with his fancies, or see the transparent temper of his face, the
look of the dreamer over all, without believing him, and reproving your
own judgment. You felt that he had travelled ways you could never travel,
that he had had dreams beyond you, that his fanciful spirit had had
adventures you would give years of your dull life to know.
And yet he was not made only as women are made, fragile and trembling in
his nerves.
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