Without attempting to fatigue her mind in vain attempts to grasp the universe⁠—as Europeans do, inviting pessimism⁠—this old woman took her portion as it came, with relish and a very searching scrutiny. She likened herself sometimes to a fisher of the Nile, who all his life frequents one reach alone. He knows the currents and the mud-banks, marks the winds, and, without preoccupation with the river’s source or outlet, is cunning in the art of bringing fish to land. The soul of her philosophy was nonresistance; her morality held all means lawful to escape oppression.

“God is gracious and all-knowing,” she would shrug. “He gives to all His creatures, great and small, the wherewithal to move in their appointed element⁠—to birds wings, fins to fishes, guile to women.”