THE CHILD WANDERS IN THE WOOD. 303 



he wanders on, starting a rabbit, scaring a 

 hawk, and listening to the birds. Presently 

 he sits down on the branch of an oak, with 

 his feet dangling over a streamlet. Then he 

 remembers children do remember things in 

 the strangest way that if he wants to hear a 

 story, or to talk with the grass, he really must 

 not try to catch the butterflies. So he touches 

 the rushes with his foot, and says, " Eush, 

 rush, tell them I am here." Immediately 

 there follows a little wind, and the wheat 

 swings to and fro, the oak -leaves rustle, the 

 rashes bow, and the shadows slip forwards 

 and back again. After this, of course, the 

 nearest wheat-ear begins to talk. Now the 

 wheat has been so long growing for the use 

 of man that it has grown to love him. Think 

 of that! And it pains the wheat to see so 

 much misery and needless labour among the 

 people. Of course, we cannot expect a wheat- 

 ear to know that little boys do not understand 

 the problems of poverty and labour. 



" ' There is one thing we do not like, and 

 that is, all the labour and the misery. Why 



