ed for
one season, because for some reason they could not fare well at home.
We children went to visit them once; and the memory of that is red and
white and purple.

The Long Road went ever on and on; I remember no turns. But we turned
at last, when the sun was set and the breeze of evening blew; and
sometimes the first star came in and the Sabbath went out before we
reached home and supper.

Another way out of town was by the bridge across the Polota. I recall
more than one excursion in that direction. Sometimes we made a large
party, annexing a few cousins and aunts for the day. At this moment I
feel a movement of affection for these relations who shared our
country adventures. I had forgotten what virtue there was in our
family; I do like people who can walk. In those days, it is likely
enough, I did not always walk on my own legs, for I was very little,
and not strong. I do not remember being carried, but if any of my big
uncles gave me a lift, I am sure I like them all the more for it.

The Dvina River swallowed the Polota many times a day, yet the lesser
stream flooded the universe on one occasion. On the hither bank of
that stream, as you go from Polotzk, I should plant a flowering bush,
a lilac or a rose, in memory of the life that bloomed in me one day
that I was there.

Leisurely we had strolled out of the peaceful town. It was early
spring, and the sky and the earth were two warm palms in which all
live things nestled. Little green leaves trembled on the trees, and
the green, green grass sparkled. We sat us down to rest a little above
the bridge; and life flowed in and out of us fully, freely, as the
river flowed and parted about the bridge piles.

A market garden lay on the opposite slope, yellow-green with first
growth. In the long black furrows yet unsown a peasant pushed his
plow. I watched him go up and down, leaving a new black line on the
bank for every turn. Suddenly he began to sing, a rude plowman's song.
Only the melody reached me, but the meaning sprang up in my heart to
fit it--a song of the earth and the hopes of the earth. I sat a long
time listening, looking, tense with attention. I felt myself
discovering things. Something in me gasped for life, and lay still. I
was but a little body, and Life Universal had suddenly burst upon me.
For a moment I had my little hand on the Great Pulse, but my fingers
slipped, empty. For the space of a wild heartbeat I _knew_, and then I
was again a simp