Diamond 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 glorious 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.