"Lofts, Norah - How Far To Bethlehem" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lofts Norah)House, 57-59 Uxbridge Road, Baling, London, W.5.
Made and Printed in Great Britain by Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press), Ltd." Bungay, Suffolk This book is dedicated with admiration and gratitude to EDWARD WAGENKNECHT who suggested the theme ONE NAZARETH 90 miles At some time, too long ago for even the oldest people to remember, the well in the village had failed. The heaviest rains in winter could not replenish it, so it was abandoned, and for at least three generations water had been fetched from a spring which broke out from the rocks on the other side of the hill. This meant that the water-carriers, always women and children, must walk for half a mile, uphill, then down, with empty jars, and half a mile, uphill and down, with full ones. Women, practical and short of time, had soon found a way to shorten and to ease that journey. Avoiding the road and the hill they cut through the fields that girdled the base of the rising ground, and over the years had trodden a path which halved the length of the journey and was all on the level. In the rainy season the path was muddy and the daily procession of feet churned the mud until it was as sticky as porridge; and for that, too, the women had found a remedy. Certain days in everyone using the path in either direction brought a stone, dropped it and trod it in. This custom was older than any memory, but it was still faithfully observed, with the result that between his humble village and its water supply ran a path as hard and firm and flat as the new roads that the Romans were beginning to lay to link city with city. The solidity of the path had served the women in another way--and not so long ago. Former owners of the land had respected the path as an established right-of-way, one of those ancient things protected by tradition. Seven or eight years ago the field had changed hands and the new owner had questioned the right of people to use part of his land as a public footpath. He intended, he said, to plough up the path and sow corn right up to the base of the hill. The stones, layer upon layer of them, dropped by hands long dead, had defied the ploughshare and the straining oxen. He had then, in a fury, declared that he would fence the path off at both ends. But before he had time to do so his wife had been brought to bed with a child, and several of the village women, pitying her because she was a stranger-and married to such a churl!--had shown her small kindnesses. And apparently even a churl could feel gratitude for nothing more was said about closing the path; indeed the right-of-way was tacitly acknowledged by the placing of large boulders, smeared with ochre, at intervals between the path and |
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