Not in the arena where he had fought and triumphed , giving fierce blow for blow , was it to be shown ; but here , looking down on the homeland , with the strength of the hills about him , it rose dominantly and claimed its own . The old bond held . Yonder below him was home -- the old house that had sheltered him , the graves of his kin , the wide fields where his boyhood dreams had been dreamed . Should he go down to it ? This was the question he asked himself . He had come back to it , heartsick of his idols of the marketplace . For years they had satisfied him , the buying and selling and getting gain , the pitting of strength and craft against strength and craft , the tireless struggle , the exultation of victory . Then , suddenly , they had failed their worshipper ; they ceased to satisfy ; the sacrifices he had heaped on their altars availed him nothing in this new need and hunger of his being . His gods mocked him and he wearied of their service . Were there not better things than these , things he had once known and loved and forgotten ? Where were the ideals of his youth , the lofty aspirations that had upborne him then ? Where was the eagerness and zest of new dawns , the earnestness of well-filled , purposeful hours of labour , the satisfaction of a good day worthily lived , at eventide the unbroken rest of long , starry nights ? Where might he find them again ? Were they yet to be had for the seeking in the old valley ? With the thought came a great yearning for home . He had had many habitations , but he realized now that he had never thought of any of these places as home . That name had all unconsciously been kept sacred to the long , green , seaward-looking glen where he had been born . So he had come back to it , drawn by a longing not to be resisted . But at the last he felt afraid . There had been many changes , of that he felt sure .
Would it still be XXXXX ?
aspirations day home house idols kin satisfaction selling thought valley