UNDER THE EARLY STARS


Play is not for every hour of the day, or for any hour taken at random.
There is a tide in the affairs of children. Civilization is cruel in
sending them to bed at the most stimulating time of dusk. Summer dusk,
especially, is the frolic moment for children, baffle them how you may.
They may have been in a pottering mood all day, intent upon all kinds of
close industries, breathing hard over choppings and poundings. But when
late twilight comes, there comes also the punctual wildness. The
children will run and pursue, and laugh for the mere movement--it does so
jog their spirits.

What remembrances does this imply of the hunt, what of the predatory
dark? The kitten grows alert at the same hour, and hunts for moths and
crickets in the grass. It comes like an imp, leaping on all fours. The
children lie in ambush and fall upon one another in the mimicry of
hunting.

The sudden outbreak of action is complained of as a defiance and a
rebellion. Their entertainers are tired, and the children are to go
home. But, with more or less of life and fire, they strike some blow for
liberty. It may be the impotent revolt of the ineffectual child, or the
stroke of the conqueror; but something, something is done for freedom
under the early stars.