170 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



on approaching a coastguard station I all at once 

 came upon some children lying on the grass on the 

 slope of a down. There were five of them, scattered 

 about, all lying on their backs, their arms stretched 

 crossways, straight out, their hands open. It looked 

 as if they had instinctively spread themselves out, just 

 as a butterfly at rest opens wide its wings to catch 

 the beams. The hot sun shone full on their fresh 

 young faces ; and though wide awake they lay perfectly 

 still as I came up and walked slowly past them, 

 looking from upturned face to face, each expressing 

 perfect contentment ; and as I successively caught 

 their eyes they smiled, though still keeping motion- 

 less and silent as the bunnies that had regarded me 

 a while before, albeit without smiling, Brer Rabbit 

 being a serious little beast. Their quietude and com- 

 posure in the presence of a stranger was unusual, and 

 like the confidence of the wild rabbits on that day 

 was caused by the delicious sensation of summer in 

 the blood. We in our early years are little wild 

 animals, and the wild animals are little children. 



Cold, and the misery of cold have I known ; cold 

 of keen wind and bitter frost ; cold of rain that rained 

 every day where there was no fire to dry me, and no 

 shelter; cold of long winter nights, spent shivering; 

 and cold from hunger and thinness of blood. That 

 was indeed what winter really meant to a majority 

 of men, even in this long civilised land not so many 

 centuries ago. These children reminded me of my 



