"Who hath set the thrift in the rocks that are smooth and barren? Who nourisheth the little sweet rose that maketh a garden of the sand-dunes? How can a man wander, when for him the Love of God is nailed on high? "The corn-ears are purple-ripe: Generous gifts bring the apple-boughs against the season of All Saints. Very good is song, that giveth cheerfulness." He turned him about, and looked back upon the whitewashed walls of Mynyw, his darling among his many foundations. To the little company of religious who followed his steps, he cried: "I do think that of all the lands in all the world the fairest is our land of Cymru. And of all the parts of Cymru, look you, the fairest and the sweetest is this Dyfed." Aidan, Teilo, Ismail, and some few more clustered round him. Said they all together: "Indeed, indeed, blessed, holy father, blessed is our Dyfed!" and many were the looks of affection they cast upon their little abbot. "I have been in the Holy Country," said David. "That is the very marvel of the world--a jewel set in the desert; but hard and bright, dear me! there is unplayful it is! I can never give thanks enough, children, that I am permitted to dwell here where I was born." So saying, he resumed his journey. They had left the monks' cultivated domain behind them, and were now in the shade of a broad lane between willows and hazels, where the mallows and the bellflowers grew rankly. Of a sudden, the lane came to an end, and they emerged upon the little promontory below Porth Mawr. Carn Llidi loomed above them, on their right hand, and at its foot rose Ty Gwyn, the deserted college of Patrick, with its grave-stones round about it. In the western distance, far away, appeared a green fairy land, with the hazy forms of mountains melting into the skyline. "Let us pray for our brethren of Ireland," said David, "of the Second Order of Saints." About an hour later, David was still some few paces at the head of his people, and repeating to himself, hands folded, the prayers for the third hour after noon, when he felt his shoulder seized in a brawny grip, and he was forcibly twisted round until he faced a sturdy individual, with a broad, smiling red face, sandy hair, and twinkling green-grey eyes, and fully equipped with the war-sword, flowing robe, and shoes of dressed leather which only a nobleman might wear. Near him were his retinue of horsemen, one of whom held the steed from which his lord had just dismounted. "David, little cousin," was his greeting, "whither so fast, I pray thee, with thy chin to the ground? Have you mission to punish wrong-doers, O very powerful saint?"