按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃I send them their love；〃 〃They sent me my love；〃 〃I kissed their
hand to me。〃 If he is stopped and told to get the words right； he
has to make a long effort。 His precedent might be cited to excuse
every politician who cannot remember whether he began his sentence
with 〃people〃 in the singular or the plural； and who finishes it
otherwise than as he began it。 Points of grammar that are purely
points of logic baffle a child completely。 He is as unready in the
thought needed for these as he is in the use of his senses。
It is not truethough it is generally saidthat a young child's
senses are quick。 This is one of the unverified ideas that commend
themselves； one knows not why。 We have had experiments to compare
the relative quickness of perception proved by men and women。 The
same experiments with children would give curious results； but they
can hardly； perhaps； be made； because the children would be not only
slow to perceive but slow to announce the perception； so the moment
would go by； and the game be lost。 Not even amateur conjuring does
so baffle the slow turning of a child's mind as does a little
intricacy of grammar。
THE FIELDS
The pride of rustic life is the child's form of caste…feeling。 The
country child is the aristocrat； he has des relations suivies with
game…keepers； nay； with the most interesting mole…catchers。 He has
a perfectly self…conscious joy that he is not in a square or a
suburb。 No essayist has so much feeling against terraces and
villas。
As for imitation countrythe further suburbit is worse than town；
it is a place to walk in； and the tedium of a walk to a child's mind
is hardly measurable by a man； who walks voluntarily； with his
affairs to think about； and his eyes released； by age； from the
custom of perpetual observation。 The child； compelled to walk； is
the only unresting observer of the asphalt； the pavement； the garden
gates and railings； and the tedious people。 He is bored as he will
never be bored when a man。
He is at his best where； under the welcome stress and pressure of
abundant crops； he is admitted to the labours of men and women；
neither in mere play nor in the earnest of the hop…field for the
sake of his little gains。 On the steep farm lands of the Canton de
Vaud； where maize and grapes are carried in the botte； so usually
are children expected in the field that bottes are made to the shape
of a back and arms of five years old。 Some； made for harvesters of
those years； can hold no more than a single yellow ear of maize or
two handfuls of beans。 You may meet the same little boy with the
repetitions of this load a score of times in the morning。 Moreover
the Swiss mother has always a fit sense of what is due to that
labourer。 When the plums are gathered； for instance； she bakes in
the general village oven certain round open tarts across which her
arm can hardly reach。 No plum tarts elsewhere are anything but dull
in comparison with these。 There is； besides； the first loaf from
the new flour； brown from the maize and white from the wheat。 Nor
can a day of potato…gathering be more appropriately ended than with
a little fire built afield and the baking of some of the harvest
under the wood ashes。 Vintaging needs no praises； nor does apple…
gathering； even when the apples are for cider； they are never acrid
enough to baffle a child's tooth。
Yet even those children who are so unlucky as never to have worked
in a real field； but have been compelled to vary their education
with nothing but play； are able to comfort themselves with the
irregular harvest of the hedges。 They have no little hand in the
realities of cultivation； but wild growths give them blackberries。
Pale are the joys of nutting beside those of haymaking； but at least
they are something。
Harvests apart； Spring； not Autumn； should make a childhood of
memories for the future。 In later Autumn； life is speeding away；
ebbing； taking flight； a fugitive； taking disguises； hiding in the
dry seed； retreating into the dark。 The daily progress of things in
Spring is for children； who look close。 They know the way of moss
and the roots of ivy； they breathe the breath of earth immediately；
direct。 They have a sense of place； of persons； and of the past
that may be remembered but cannot be recaptured。 Adult accustomed
eyes cannot see what a child's eye sees of the personality of a
person； to the child the accidents of voice and look are charged
with separate and unique character。 Such a sense of place as he got
in a day within some forest； or in a week by some lake； so that a
sound or odour can bring it back in after days； with a shockeven
such a sense of single personality does a little watchful girl get
from the accents； the turns of the head； the habits of the hands；
the presence of a woman。 Not all places； nor all persons； are so
quick with the expression of themselves； the child knows the
difference。 As for places that are so loaded； and that breathe so；
the child discerns them passionately。
A travelled child multiplies these memories and has them in their
variety。 His heart has room for many places that have the spirit of
place。 The glacier may be forgotten； but some little tract of
pasture that has taken wing to the head of a mountain valley； a
field that has soared up a pass unnamed； will become a memory； in
time； sixty years old。 That is a fortunate child who has tasted
country life in places far apart； who has helped； followed the wheat
to the threshing…floor of a Swiss village； stumbled after a plough
of Virgil's shape in remoter Tuscan hills； and gleaned after a
vintage。 You cannot suggest pleasanter memories than those of the
vintage； for the day when the wine will be old。
THE BARREN SHORE
It may be a disappointment to the children each year at play upon so
many beacheseven if they are but dimly aware of their lackto
find their annual plaything to be not a real annual； an annual
thing； indeed； to them； for the arbitrary reason that they go down
to it once a year； but not annual in the vital and natural sense of
the seasons； not waxing and waning； not bearing； not turning that
circle of the seasons whereof no one knows which is the highest
point and the secret and the ultimate purpose； not recreated； not
new； and not yielding to the child anything raw and irregular to
eat。
Sand castles are well enough； and they are the very commonplace of
the recollections of elders； of their rhetoric； and of what they
think appropriate for their young ones。 Shingle and sand are good
playthings； but absolute play is not necessarily the ideal of a
child； he would rather have a frolic of work。 Of all the early
autumn things to be done in holiday time； that game with the beach
and the wave is the least good for holiday…time。
Not that the shore is everywhere so barren。 The coast of the
Londonersall round the southern and eastern borders of Englandis
indeed the dullest of all sea…margins。 But away in the gentle bays
of Jersey the summer grows a crop of seaweed which the long ocean
wave leaves in noble curves upon the beach； for under sunny water
the storms have gathered the crops。 The Channel Island people go
gleaning after the sea； and store the seaweed for their fields。
Thus the beaches of Jersey bays are not altogether barren； and have
a kind of dead and accessory harvest for the farmer。 After a night
of storm these crops are stacked and carted and carried； the sea…
wind catching away loose shreds from the summits of the loads。
Further south； if the growth of the sea is not so put to use； the
shore has yet its seasons。 You could hardly tell； if you did not
know the month； whether a space of sea or a series of waves； at
Aldborough； say； or at Dover； were summer or winter water； but in
those fortunate regions which are southern； yet not too southern for
winter； and have thus the strongest swing of change and the fullest
pulse of the year； there are a winter sea and a summer sea；
brilliantly different； with a delicate variety between the hastening
blue of spring and the lingering blue of September。 There you bathe
from the rocks； untroubled by tides； and unhurried by chills； and
with no incongruous sun beating on your head while your fingers are
cold。 You bathe when the sun has set； and the vast sea has not a
whisper； you know a rock in the distance where you can rest； and
where you float； there float also by you opalescent jelly…fish； half
transparent in the perfectly transparent water。 An hour in the warm
sea is not enough。 Rock…bathing is done on lonely shores。 A city
may be but a mile away； and the cultivated vineyards may be close
above the seaside pine…trees； but the place is perfectly remote。
You pitch your tent on any little hollow of beach。 A charming
Englishwoman who used to bathe with her children under the great
rocks of her Mediterranean villa in the motionless white evenings of
summer put white roses in her hair； and liked to sit out on a rock
at sea where the first rays of the moon would touch her。
You bathe in the Channel in the very prose of the day。 Nothing in
the world is more uninteresting than eleven o'clock。 It is t