If a snake tried to stand up on the tip of its tail, its task would be less than the pilgrim’s contending with his crust as the bread stales. To feast and then face a long stretch with no food is bad for the soul, and bad for the arms that lift the spade and divide the mud. But there is heaven and metaphor the loaves. The virgins for moslems and tall golden canes for the snakes who walk like men.