“No,” said the Philosopher, “it isn’t that way you’d go visiting a god. What you do is, you go out from your house and walk straight away in any direction with your shadow behind you so long as it is towards a mountain, for the gods will not stay in a valley or a level plain, but only in high places; and then, if the god wants you to see him, you will go to his rath as direct as if you knew where it was, for he will be leading you with an airy thread reaching from his own place to wherever you are, and if he doesn’t want to see you, you will never find out where he is, not if you were to walk for a year or twenty years.” “How do you know he wants to see you?” said the second man. “Why wouldn’t he want?” said the Philosopher. “Maybe, Mister Honey,” said the woman, “you are a holy sort of a man that a god would like well.” “Why would I be that?” said the Philosopher. “The gods like a man whether he’s holy or not if he’s only decent.” “Ah, well, there’s plenty of that sort,” said the first man. “What do you happen to have in your bag, stranger?” “Nothing,” replied the Philosopher, “but a cake and a half that was baked for my journey.” “Give me a bit of your cake, Mister Honey,” said the woman. “I like to have a taste of everybody’s cake.” “I will, and welcome,” said the Philosopher. “You may as well give us all a bit while you are about it,” said the second man. “That woman hasn’t got all the hunger of the world.” “Why not,” said the Philosopher, and he divided the cake. “There’s a sup of water up yonder,” said the first man, “and it will do to moisten the cake—Whoh, you devil,” he roared at the ass, and the ass stood stock still on the minute. There was a thin fringe of grass along the road near a wall, and towards this the ass began to edge very gently. “Hike, you beast, you,” shouted the man, and the ass at once hiked, but he did it in a way that brought him close to the grass. The first man took a tin can out of the cart and climbed over the little wall for water. Before he went he gave the ass three kicks on the nose, but the ass did not say a word, he only hiked still more which brought him directly on to the grass, and when the man climbed over the wall the ass commenced to crop the grass. There was a spider sitting on a hot stone in the grass. He had a small body and wide legs, and he wasn’t doing anything. “Does anybody ever kick you in the nose?” said the ass to him. “Ay does there,” said the spider; “you and your like that are always walking on me, or lying down on me, or running over me with the wheels of a cart.” “Well, why don’t you stay on the wall?” said the ass. “Sure, my wife is there,” replied the spider. “What’s the harm in that?” said the ass. “She’d eat me,” said the spider, “and, anyhow, the competition on the wall is dreadful, and the flies are getting wiser and timider every season. Have you got a wife yourself, now?” “I have not,” said the ass; “I wish I had.”