Recollections of Childhood 



hill-slde ! What are they doing up there, those 

 desolate trees? I am interested in their supple 

 backs, to-day still and upright against the blue 

 of the sky, to-morrow shaken when the clouds 

 pass overhead. I am gladdened by their calm- 

 ness; I am distressed by their terrified gest- 

 ures. They are my friends. I have them be- 

 fore my eyes at every hour of the day. In the 

 morning, the sun rises behind their transparent 

 screen and ascends in its glory. Where does 

 it come from ? I am going to climb up there 

 and perhaps I shall find out. 



I mount the slope. It is a lean grass-sward 

 close-cropped by the sheep. It has no bushes, 

 fertile in rents and tears, for which I should 

 have to answer on returning home, nor any 

 rocks, the scaling of which involves like 

 dangers; nothing but large, flat stones, scat- 

 tered here and there. I have only to go 

 straight on, over smooth ground. But the 

 sward is as steep as a sloping roof. It is long, 

 ever so long; and my legs are very short. From 

 time to time, I look up. My friends, the trees 

 on the hill-top, seem to be no nearer. Cheerly, 

 sonnie ! Scramble away ! 



What is this at my feet? A lovely bird has 

 flown from its hiding-place under the eaves of 

 a big stone. Bless us, here's a nest made of 

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