the children(孩子们)-第10章
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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。
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THE CHILDREN
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。
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THE CHILDREN
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
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THE CHILDREN
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 the hour of
mediocrity under the best conditions； but eleven o'clock on a shingly
beach； in a half…hearted summer； is a very common thing。 Twelve has a
dignity always； and everywhere its name is great。 The noon of every day
that ever dawned is in its place heroic； but eleven is worldly。 One o'clock
has
