"*
*[I am told, on good authority, that this last line of the three
belongs to another hymn. As it is just what I want to say, I'm
going to let it stand as it is.]
If I remember right, the hymn went to the tune of "Ariel," and I can
see John Snodgrass, the precentor, sneaking a furtive C from his
pitch-pipe, finding E flat and then sol, and standing up to lead the
singing, paddling the air gently with: Down, left, sing. Well, no
matter about that now. What I am trying to get at, is that we have
all a lost Eden in the past and a Paradise Regained in the future.
'Twixt two unbounded seas of happiness we stand on the narrow and
arid sand-spit of the present and cast a wishful eye. In hot weather
particularly the wishful eye, when directed toward the lost Eden of
boyhood, lights on and lingers near the Old Swimming-hole.
I suppose boys do grow up into a reasonable enjoyment of their
faculties in big seaside cities and on inland farms where there is
no accessible body of water larger than a wash-tub, but I prefer to
believe that the majority of our adult male population in youth went
in swimming in the river up above the dam, where the big sycamore
spread out its roots a-purpose for them to climb out on without
muddying their feet. Some, I suppose, went in at the Copperas Banks
below town, where the current had dug a hole that was "over head and
hands," but that was pretty far and almost too handy for the boys
from across the tracks.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102