t his place in order, and was ready
to go with you--anywhere.
There had been, on your arrival, a clamor to have
you Read that afternoon--but the Wizard
quietly slipped you away.
Out into the Open you drove, in an old Barouche,
behind a Pair of Good Horses.
It was a long Drive; it was a beautiful Drive.
It was driven in Silence.
After several hours--the spell was still upon you--a
sharp turn brought you to the Banks of White River;
and there--under a Clump of the Sycamore, of the
Willow, in a deep, Shady Pool, an Eddy, undisturbed
by the current of the broad, shallow Stream--a
Batch of Boys, swimming, chattering, diving.
"Stop" you said to the driver; "Come here" you called to the Lads.
They came trooping, dripping, out of the Pool.
A change came over you; flinging off your coat,
your hat, you arose to your feet.
There they stood before you, naked, unabashed, curious.
A complacent smile, flickered across the bearded
face of the Wise Wizard. He must have known!
He must have timed your arrival at that particular
spot, at that particular moment.
But even the Wizard could not have known what was to follow.
Without a word of explanation, you gave them, that
crowd of naked Boys--gave it, as you had never
given it before, doubtless, as you never
gave it again--your

"Old Swimmin' Hole"

Oh! the old swimmin' hole! whare the crick so still and deep
Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep,
And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
Sounded like the laugh of something we onc't ust to know
Before we could remember anything but the eyes
Of the angels lookin' out as we left Paradise;
But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle,
And its hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole.

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the happy days of yore,
When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore.
Oh! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide
That gazed back at me so gay and glorified,
It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress
My shadder smilin' up at me with sich tenderness.
But them days is past and gone, and old Time's tuck his toll
From the old man come back to the old swimmin'-hole.

Oh! the old swimmin'-hole! In the long, lazy days
When the humdrum of school made so many run-a-ways.
How plesant was the jurney down the old dusty lane,
Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed s