Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. Glorious! The Pastoral. English a little! ‘You ought to have English only.
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