Everybody said
it was such splendid water. It isn't so very cold these days, and I
think it has a sort of funny taste to it.
Ah, Gentle Reader, this is not really "Back Home" we gaze upon when
we go there by the train. It is a last year's bird's nest. The
nest is there; the birds are flown, the birds of youth, and noisy
health, and ravenous appetite, and inexperience. You cannot go
"Back Home" by train, but here is the magic wishing-carpet, and here
is your transportation in your hand all made out to you. You and I
will make the journey together. Let us in heart and mind thither
ascend.
I went to the Old Red School-house with you. Don't you remember me?
I was learning to swim when you could go clear across the river
without once "letting down." I saw you at the County Fair, and
bought a slab of ice-cream candy just before you did. I was in the
infant-class in Sabbath-school when you spoke in the dialogue at
the monthly concert. Look again. Don't you remember me? I used
to stub my toe so; you ought to recollect me by that. I know plenty
of people that you know. I may not always get their names just
right, but then it's been a good while ago. You Il recognize them,
though; you'll know them in a minute.
EUGENE WOOD.
BACK HOME
THE OLD RED SCHOOL-HOUSE
Oh, the little old red school-house on the hill,
(2d bass: On the hill.
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