SUMMER HEAT 173 



But after that bitter bark, 

 Be the shelle awaye, 

 Is a kernel of comfort 

 Kind to restore. 



At the end of June, a fortnight after seeing the 

 coastguard children, I was again vividly reminded 

 of the bliss of summer " to all that ben " in an 

 amusing way. It was an excessively hot morning, the 

 hottest of the year so far, and I felt it all the more 

 for being down in the valley of the Ouse, on a dusty 

 flinty road, weary to walk in, between the little 

 riverside villages of Southease and Rodmell. Here 

 I spied a man coming towards me at a swinging 

 pace ; he was short and thick set, aged about thirty, 

 clad in old earth-coloured clothes, a small peakless 

 cap thrust far back on his head, his broad face — the 

 countenance of a genial ruffian — ashine with sweat 

 and happiness. His swinging gait, jolly expression, 

 and a bunch of freshly pulled yellow flag lilies which 

 he had stuck in the breast of his ragged old coat, 

 plainly showed that he was no professional tramp. 

 Yet he stopped me with a loud hearty greeting and 

 the remark that it was splendid weather ; then he 

 added that he would be glad of a bit of bread and 

 some beer at the next village, but was stony-broke. 

 Now I had nothing but a florin in my pocket, and 

 as my intention was to be out rambling all day I 

 knew that I should badly want some money for 

 refreshments before evening, and there was no place 

 near to get change. I explained this to him, with 



