It is no sandy plain, nor any circumscribed and scant oasis I seem to realize. A forest valley, with rocky sides and brown profundity of shade, formed by tree crowding on tree, descends deep before me. Here, indeed, dwell human beings, but so few, and in alleys so thick branched and overarched, they are neither heard nor seen. Are they savage? Doubtless. They live by the crook and the bow; half shepherds, half hunters, their flocks wander wild as their prey. Are they happy? No, not more happy than we are at this day. Are they good? No, not better than ourselves. 
 no sandy plain, nor scant oasis, but a forest valley, with rocky sides and deep shade, formed by tree crowding on tree. Here dwell human beings, but so few, and so hidden that they are neither heard nor seen. Are they savage? Doubtless. They live by the crook and the bow; half shepherds, half hunters. Are they happy? No, not more happy than we are. Are they good? No, not better than ourselves. 