GROWING OLD 



245 



go back and face all the dangers once more ; I would 

 gladly become a sleek little, callow little, bumptious 

 little, ignorant little weed of a rat such as I once 

 was, with a tail untouched by calamity or honour, 

 going securely though ingloriously on four very 

 sound paws, if you would only give me back the 

 supple muscles, and the sharp teeth and claws, and 

 the light and careless heart, all of which things 1 took 

 so much for granted in those early days. 



I cannot think as I now look back that I made 

 quite as much use of Nature's best gifts as I might 

 have made. I might have risked a little more and 

 yet have come through safely to the same dignified 

 but somewhat stuffy old age. I might have married 

 more wives, fought more battles, killed more cray- 

 fish by the river, and done more joyous and light- 

 hearted mischief generally in field and hedgerow, 

 in barn and stack, in hovel and palace, than I con- 

 trived to squeeze into those ecstatic years. I do 

 not exactly wish to say that I have not lived and 

 drained the cup pretty dry, but one cannot look 

 back out of the days of stiffness, and out of the 

 nights of uneasy and broken slumber without 

 thinking that perhaps — just perhaps — one might 

 have contrived to do a little more. 



However, little Sammy has gone, and he will 



