I know nothing about the girl, save what you have told me. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer.
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