ads," said I, studiously conning the old man's bold but bad
chirography, and tilting my chair back indolently,--"it reads like
this--the first verse does,"--and I very gravely read:--

"Oh! the old swimmin'-hole!"

"Stop! Stop!" said the old man excitedly--"Stop right there! That's my
poetry, but that's not the way to read it by a long shot! Give it to
me!" and he almost snatched it from my hand. "Poetry like this ain't
no poetry at all, 'less you read it _natchurl_ and _in jes the same
sperit 'at it's writ in_, don't you understand. It's a' old man
a-talkin', rickollect, and a-feelin' kindo' sad, and yit kindo' sorto'
good, too, and I opine he wouldn't got that off with a face on him
like a' undertaker, and a voice as solemn as a cow-bell after dark!
He'd say it more like this."--And the old man adjusted his spectacles
and read:--

"THE 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 it's hard to part ferever with the old swimmin'-hole."

I clapped my hands in genuine applause. "Read on!" I said,--"Read on!
Read all of it!"

The old man's face was radiant as he continued:--

"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 hum-drum of school made so many run-a-ways,
How pleasant was the jurney down the old dusty lane,
Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so plane
You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole
They was lots o' fun on hands at the old swimmin'-hole.
But the lost joys is past! Let your tears in sorrow roll
Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin'-hole.

"Thare the bullrushes growed, and the cattails so