Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-09-14
THE COUNTRY CHILD.
Restrictions Under Which the City
Reared Urchin Lives.

From the London Spectator.
The town-bred child has nothing to re-
place that vista Of dreams which the coun-
try child can retrieve at will. He moves In
set and ordered ways. even as the stars in
their courses. Certain walks he goes. de-
mure and restricted he trots sedately be-
side his nurse. or lays a gloved hand In
hers. Shouting and running are forbidden.
Shops. and people, and traffic, in eternal
monotony Of noise and hurry, are all that
Is offered for his outdoor consideration
The sunset is shut away from him behind
bricks and mortar. The stars he has only
seen by stealth through curtained windows.
Dew is matter he cannot comprehend;
snow is something of a peculiar and ad
hesive dirtiness. Trees there are, and grass
plots, but they have neither scent nor sig
nificance for him. The flowers in the parks
and squares are under a regime orderly
as his own, appearing with punctual pre-
cision In their appointed times, even as he
comes down to dessert O nights. Birds
mean sparrows; there are others mentioned
in rhymes and fairy tales, but he has never
met them, any more than dwarfs or talking
cats. In his nursery, of course, he romps
and registers; but the whole breadth and
depth of outdoor life are denied to him. All
his years, whatever he may achieve or en-
Joy, he will be vacant of those glorious
gains. barren of those golden memories
which are the tnalienable heritage of his
country cousin.
Meanwhile the country child is laying up
store of Renaissance that will be a COM
panion to him to his latest hour. The sea-
sons are no empty names to him; each has
its unique and proper delights; none is in
ferior to another. Day and night are his.
especially that luminous mystery Of sum-
mer night which is the haunt OF vague ro-
mantle visions The sunrise he knows, and
the sunset, and all the unimaginable ex-
panses Of bare heaven, visible from rim to
rim. He Is far-sighted, because there are
.zIz 49,
to travel; and yet he may be keen OBJ
server of minute detail, expert in the tiny
variations of insects, birds and flowers. At
four or five years old his sense of adven-
ture wakes irrepressible, leading him into
paths of peril and punishment, and run
away episodes with impotent conclusions
He may shout and gambol unchallenged
along the leafy lanes his legs and his lungs
vying in exuberant vitality, none to say
him nay.
The procession of the months goes past
him. fraught with boundless possibilities OF
event. Snowballing is clearly and exhtla-
rating sport; an inverted chair makes an
excellent sledge; glossy black regions OF
untrodden ice offer prospects of skating and
sliding, very different from the muddy pam
demonium Of a London pond. He counts the
signs and tokens Of spring, and is not
ashamed to go a-primrosing. The whole
joyous circumstance of bird 's-nesting lies
an open book before him; his legs may be
full Of furze pricks and his coat of rents,
but there are precious eggs IN his pocket
handkerchief. He is knowledgable In the
ways Of feathered folk, and the rusty
leaves at the foot of the oak tree do not
conceal from him the nightingales olive
colored eggs. While his sisters are weaving
daisy chains or tossing cowslip balls, he is
immersed in the precarious ecstasy of hunt
ing pig nuts; or he is away with elder boys
to the trout stream, to return rosily trt-
umphant. He excavates piratical caves IN
the sandpit, or joys a seesaw Oh deftly
poised timber. His little garden claims de-
voted attention; he is an adept with rake
and hoe, and carries his first fruits of cress
and radishes in proud tribute to prouder
mother