I came to the conclusion that a state of profound peace and repose, both in regard to outward objects and within the soul, is the happiest condition in which man can be placed; for, although I had many a time been most joyful and happy when engaged in bustling, energetic, active pursuits or amusements, I never found that such joy or satisfaction was so deep or so pleasant to reflect upon as that which I now experienced.

And I was the more confirmed in this opinion when I observed, and, indeed, was told by himself, that Peterkin's happiness was also very great; yet he did not express this by dancing, as was his wont, nor did he give so much as a single shout, but walked quietly between us with his eye sparkling, and a joyful smile upon his countenance.

My reader must not suppose that I thought all this in the clear and methodical manner in which I have set it down here.

These thoughts did, indeed, pass through my mind, but they did so in a very confused and indefinite manner, for I was young at that time, and not much given to deep reflections.

Neither did I consider that the peace whereof I write is not to be found in this world--at least in its perfection, although I have since learned that by religion a man may attain to a very great degree of it.
I have said that Peterkin walked along the sands between us.