D IAMOND and his mother sat down upon the edge of the rough grass that bordered the sand. The sun was just far enough past its highest not to shine in their eyes when they looked eastward. A sweet little wind blew on their left side, and comforted the mother without letting her know what it was that comforted her. Away before them stretched the sparkling waters of the ocean, every wave of which flashed out its own delight back in the face of the great sun, which looked down from the stillness of its blue house with gloriously silent face upon its flashing children. On each hand the shore rounded outwards, forming a little bay. There were no white cliffs here, as further north and south, and the place was rather dreary, but the sky got at them so much the better. Not a house, not a creature was within sight. Dry sand was about their feet, and under them thin wiry grass, that just managed to grow out of the poverty-stricken shore.

"Oh dear!" said Diamond's mother, with a deep sigh, "it's a sad world!"

"Is it?" said Diamond. "I didn't know."

"How should you know, child? You've been too well taken care of, I trust."

"Oh yes, I have," returned Diamond. "I'm sorry! I thought you were taken care of too. I thought my father took care of you. I will ask him about it. I think he must have forgotten."

"Dear boy!" said his mother; "your father's the best man in the world."

"So I thought!" returned Diamond with triumph. "I was sure of it!—Well, doesn't he take very good care of you?"

"Yes, yes, he does," answered his mother, bursting into tears. "But who's to take care of him? And how is he to take care of us if he's got nothing to eat himself?"

"Oh dear!" said Diamond with a gasp; "hasn't he got anything to eat? Oh! I must go home to him."

"No, no, child. He's not come to that yet. But what's to become of us, I don't know."

"Are you very hungry, mother? There's the basket. I thought you put something to eat in it."

"O you darling stupid! I didn't say I was hungry," returned his mother, smiling through her tears.

"Then I don't understand you at all," said Diamond. "Do tell me what's the matter."

"There are people in the world who have nothing to eat, Diamond."

"Then I suppose they don't stop in it any longer. They—they—what you call—die—don't they?"

"Yes, they do. How would you like that?"

"I don't know. I never tried. But I suppose they go where they get something to eat."

"Like enough they don't want it," said his mother, petulantly.

"That's all right then," said Diamond, thinking I daresay more than he chose to put in words.

"Is it though? Poor boy! how little you know about things! Mr. Coleman's lost all his money, and your father has nothing to do, and we shall have nothing to eat by and by."

"Are you sure, mother?"

"Sure of what?"

"Sure that we shall have nothing to eat."

"No, thank Heaven! I'm not sure of it. I hope not."

"Then I can't understand it, mother. There's a piece of gingerbread in the basket, I know."

"O you little bird! You have no more sense than a sparrow that picks what it wants, and never thinks of the winter and the frost and the snow."

"Ah—yes—I see. But the birds get through the winter, don't they?"

"Some of them fall dead on the ground."

"They must die some time. They wouldn't like to be birds always. Would you, mother?"

"What a child it is!" thought his mother, but she said nothing.

"Oh! now I remember," Diamond went on. "Father told me that day I went to Epping Forest with him, that the rose-bushes, and the may-bushes, and the holly-bushes were the bird's barns, for there were the hips, and the haws, and the holly-berries, all ready for the winter."

"Yes; that's all very true. So you see the birds are provided for. But there are no such barns for you and me, Diamond."

"Ain't there?"

"No. We've got to work for our bread."

"Then let's go and work," said Diamond, getting up.

"It's no use. We've not got anything to do."

"Then let's wait."

"Then we shall starve."

"No. There's the basket. Do you know, mother, I think I shall call that basket the barn."

"It's not a very big one. And when it's empty—where are we then?"

"At auntie's cupboard," returned Diamond promptly.

"But we can't eat auntie's things all up and leave her to starve."

"No, no. We'll go back to father before that. He'll have found a cupboard somewhere by that time."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know it. But I haven't got even a cupboard, and I've always had plenty to eat. I've heard you say I had too much, sometimes."

"But I tell you that's because I've had a cupboard for you, child."

"And when yours was empty, auntie opened hers."

"But that can't go on."

"How do you know? I think there must be a big cupboard somewhere, out of which the little cupboards are filled, you know, mother."

"Well, I wish I could find the door of that cupboard," said his mother. But the same moment she stopped, and was silent for a good while. I cannot tell whether Diamond knew what she was thinking, but I think I know. She had heard something at church the day before, which came back upon her—something like this, that she hadn't to eat for tomorrow as well as for to-day; and that what was not wanted couldn't be missed. So, instead of saying anything more, she stretched out her hand for the basket, and she and Diamond had their dinner.

And Diamond did enjoy it. For the drive and the fresh air had made him quite hungry; and he did not, like his mother, trouble himself about what they should dine off that day week. The fact was he had lived so long without any food at all at the back of the north wind, that he knew quite well that food was not essential to existence; that in fact, under certain circumstances, people could live without it well enough.

His mother did not speak much during their dinner. After it was over she helped him to walk about a little, but he was not able for much and soon got tired. He did not get fretful, though. He was too glad of having the sun and the wind again, to fret because he could not run about. He lay down on the dry sand, and his mother covered him with a shawl. She then sat by his side, and took a bit of work from her pocket. But Diamond felt rather sleepy, and turned on his side and gazed sleepily over the sand. A few yards off he saw something fluttering.

"What is that, mother?" he said.

"Only a bit of paper," she answered.

"It flutters more than a bit of paper would, I think," said Diamond.

"I'll go and see if you like," said his mother. "My eyes are none of the best."

So she rose and went and found that they were both right, for it was a little book, partly buried in the sand. But several of its leaves were clear of the sand, and these the wind kept blowing about in a very flutterful manner. She took it up and brought it to Diamond.

"What is it, mother?" he asked.

"Some nursery rhymes, I think," she answered.

"I'm too sleepy," said Diamond. "Do read some of them to me."

"Yes, I will," she said, and began one.—"But this is such nonsense!" she said again. "I will try to find a better one."

She turned the leaves searching, but three times, with sudden puffs, the wind blew the leaves rustling back to the same verses.

"Do read that one," said Diamond, who seemed to be of the same mind as the wind. "It sounded very nice. I am sure it is a good one."

So his mother thought it might amuse him, though she couldn't find any sense in it. She never thought he might understand it, although she could not.

Now I do not exactly know what the mother read, but this is what Diamond heard, or thought afterwards that he had heard. He was, however, as I have said, very sleepy, and when he thought he understood the verses he may have been only dreaming better ones. This is how they went—

I know a river 
whose waters run asleep 
run run ever 
singing in the shallows 
dumb in the hollows 
sleeping so deep 
and all the swallows
that dip their feathers 
in the hollows 
or in the shallows 
are the merriest swallows of all 
for the nests they bake 
with the clay they cake 
with the water they shake 
from their wings that rake 
the water out of the shallows 
or the hollows 
will hold together 
in any weather 
and so the swallows 
are the merriest fellows 
and have the merriest children 
and are built so narrow 
like the head of an arrow 
to cut the air 
and go just where 
the nicest water is flowing 
and the nicest dust is blowing 
for each so narrow 
like head of an arrow 
is only a barrow 
to carry the mud he makes 
from the nicest water flowing 
and the nicest dust that is blowing 
to build his nest 
for her he loves best 
with the nicest cakes 
which the sunshine bakes 
all for their merry children 
all so callow 
with beaks that follow 
gaping and hollow
wider and wider 
after their father 
or after their mother
the food-provider 
who brings them a spider 
or a worm the poor hider 
down in the earth 
so there's no dearth 
for their beaks as yellow 
as the buttercups growing 
beside the flowing 
of the singing river 
always and ever 
growing and blowing 
for fast as the sheep 
awake or asleep 
crop them and crop them 
they cannot stop them 
but up they creep 
and on they go blowing 
and so with the daisies 
the little white praises 
they grow and they blow 
and they spread out their crown 
and they praise the sun 
and when he goes down 
their praising is done 
and they fold up their crown 
and they sleep every one 
till over the plain 
he's shining amain 
and they're at it again 
praising and praising 
such low songs raising 
that no one hears them 
but the sun who rears them 

and the sheep that bite them 
are the quietest sheep 
awake or asleep 
with the merriest bleat 
and the little lambs 
are the merriest lambs 
they forget to eat 
for the frolic in their feet 
and the lambs and their dams 
are the whitest sheep 
with the woolliest wool 
and the longest wool 
and the trailingest tails 
and they shine like snow 
in the grasses that grow 
by the singing river 
that sings for ever 
and the sheep and the lambs 
are merry for ever 
because the river 
sings and they drink it 
and the lambs and their dams 
are quiet 
and white 
because of their diet 
for what they bite 
is buttercups yellow 
and daisies white 
and grass as green 
as the river can make it 
with wind as mellow 
to kiss it and shake it 
as never was seen 
but here in the hollows 
beside the river 
where all the swallows 
are merriest of fellows 
for the nests they make 
with the clay they cake 
in the sunshine bake 
till they are like bone 
as dry in the wind 
as a marble stone 
so firm they bind 
the grass in the clay 
that dries in the wind 

the sweetest wind 
that blows by the river 
flowing for ever 
but never you find 
whence comes the wind 
that blows on the hollows 
and over the shallows 
where dip the swallows 
alive it blows 
the life as it goes 
awake or asleep 
into the river 
that sings as it flows 
and the life it blows 
into the sheep 
awake or asleep
with the woolliest wool 
and the trailingest tails 
and it never fails 
gentle and cool 
to wave the wool 
and to toss the grass 
as the lambs and the sheep 
over it pass 
and tug and bite 
with their teeth so white 
and then with the sweep 
of their trailing tails 
smooth it again 
and it grows amain 
and amain it grows 
and the wind as it blows 
tosses the swallows 
over the hollows 
and down on the shallows 
till every feather 
doth shake and quiver 
and all their feathers 
go all together 
blowing the life 
and the joy so rife 
into the swallows 
that skim the shallows 
and have the yellowest children 
for the wind that blows 
is the life of the river 
flowing for ever 
that washes the grasses 
still as it passes 
and feeds the daisies 
the little white praises 
and buttercups bonny 
so golden and sunny 
with butter and honey 
that whiten the sheep 
awake or asleep 
that nibble and bite
and grow whiter than white 
and merry and quiet 
on the sweet diet 
fed by the river 
and tossed for ever 
by the wind that tosses 
the swallow that crosses 
over the shallows 
dipping his wings 
to gather the water 
and bake the cake 
that the wind shall make 
as hard as a bone 
as dry as a stone 
it's all in the wind 
that blows from behind 
and all in the river 
that flows for ever 
and all in the grasses 
and the white daisies 
and the merry sheep 
awake or asleep 
and the happy swallows
skimming the shallows 
and it's all in the wind 
that blows from behind

Here Diamond became aware that his mother had stopped reading.

"Why don't you go on, mother dear?" he asked.

"It's such nonsense!" said his mother. "I believe it would go on for ever."

"That's just what it did," said Diamond.

"What did?" she asked.

"Why, the river. That's almost the very tune it used to sing."

His mother was frightened, for she thought the fever was coming on again. So she did not contradict him.

"Who made that poem?" asked Diamond.

"I don't know," she answered. "Some silly woman for her children, I suppose—and then thought it good enough to print."

"She must have been at the back of the north wind some time or other, anyhow," said Diamond. "She couldn't have got a hold of it anywhere else. That's just how it went." And he began to chant bits of it here and there; but his mother said nothing for fear of making him worse; and she was very glad indeed when she saw her brother-in-law jogging along in his little cart. They lifted Diamond in, and got up themselves, and away they went, "home again, home again, home again," as Diamond sang. But he soon grew quiet, and before they reached Sandwich he was fast asleep and dreaming of the country at the back of the north wind.

Table of Contents | Index | Home | Previous: Who Met Diamond at Sandwich | Next: Old Diamond