should not I do as well? I thought. The Child is merely seeing her shoes
as they are with as many senses and as many thoughts and desires at once
as she can muster, and with all her might.

What if I were to see the world like the Child?

Yesterday I went to Robert's Meadow. I saw three small city boys, with
their splendid shining rubber boots and their beautiful bamboo poles.
They were on their way home. They had only the one trout between them,
and that had been fondled, examined, and poked over and bragged about
until it was fairly stiff and brown with those boys--looked as if it had
been stolen out of a dried-herring box. They put it reverently back,
when I saw it, into their big basket. I smiled a little as I walked on
and thought how they felt about it.

Then suddenly it was as if I had forgotten something. I turned and
looked back; saw those three boys--a little retinue to that solitary
fish--trudging down the road in the yellow sun. And I stood there and
wanted to be in it! Then I saw them going round the bend in the road
thirty years away.

I still want to be one of those boys.

And I am going to try. Perhaps, Heaven helping me, I will yet grow up to
them!

I know that the way those three boys felt about the fish--the way they
folded it around with something, the way they made the most of it, is
the way to feel about the world.