I have said that I should set a passage distinguished by obvious and
pleasing imagery, however faint; for the child thinks much in images,
words are very live to him, phrases that imply a picture eloquent
beyond their value. Rummaging in the dusty pigeon-holes of memory, I
came once upon a graphic version of the famous Psalm, 'The Lord is my
shepherd': and from the places employed in its illustration, which
are all in the immediate neighbourhood of a house then occupied by my
father, I am able, to date it before the seventh year of my age,
although it was probably earlier in fact. The 'pastures green' were
represented by a certain suburban stubble-field, where I had once
walked with my nurse, under an autumnal sunset, on the banks of the
Water of Leith: the place is long ago built up; no pastures now, no
stubble-fields; only a maze of little streets and smoking chimneys
and shrill children. Here, in the fleecy person of a sheep, I seemed
to myself to follow something unseen, unrealised, and yet benignant;
and close by the sheep in which I was incarnated - as if for greater
security - rustled the skirt, of my nurse.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267