SCRIPTURE STORIES 



Jericho and Jerusalem. It may have been a jumble of 

 disconnected tales and, for the boys, nothing more than 

 tales but each remains cut out in clean outline and 

 brightest colours that are never likely to fade. To this 

 day a field of golden corn, newly reaped, in pastoral 

 Dorset, under a hot harvest sun, will raise the bright 

 phantom of Boaz and the gentle gleaner. A country lass 

 at the fountain, or even merely the rim of some disused 

 and filled- up well, aye even such cryptic names as Jakin 

 and Boaz, the pillars, will conjure up again some picture 

 first raised from the pages of that Epitome Sacrae, read 

 under the light of the brown lamp gently swaying in the 

 draught of the school-room above our ruffled heads . . . 

 and steadily smelling of petroU 



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