ith a gay heart I left the
town and my mother's door never to return permanently, and as blind as a
stone to what I was going away for; I was going--that was all that
concerned me. There was no future; time does not exist for children;
yesterdays are faint, tomorrows undreamed, today endless. Arriving in
Norwich, at once, I felt at home. I met my former playmates without a
greeting, and just as if we had not been separated for half a year.
Nothing was changed; we resumed our sports, and every afternoon at the
close of school, in which I was now a pupil, we played among the cedars
of Savin Hill; or else we paired off and spent our time with the dogs,
rabbits and pigeons and other pets owned by my different companions. I
had myself one hen which the good dame, with whom my sister and I
boarded, allowed me to keep in a large box in her yard. I spent much of
my time, when without companions, with my hen. I made her many nests in
hopes of enticing her to lay eggs, for which I was promised a cent
apiece by dame Onion. I cannot recall how I came by this hen, nor what
was her final fate. What trifles we pursue! What trifles connect the
seven ages of life, more often remembered than the real steps of our
career. So let biddy spread her wing as wide as Jove's eagle, and eat
gravel with Juno's peacock; and in this narration I keep company with my
betters, who have not lowered their dignity by confessing their
obligations to the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and to all
those friendly creatures which dwell in the shelter of the house and the
barnyard. So, little red hen, I leave thee here on the road by which I
strayed, playing and singing, into the fearful arena of life, walled and
thousand-eyed; whether we fall or triumph, the spectacle and the wonder
of an hour.

Whether it were better to be the limpet fixed to its rock, forever free
from change, or the wild gull soaring over shores and sea, now wading in
the mud, now riding gloriously on the crest of the billows, is a query
which has often agitated me since the time I abandoned the home of my
childhood. For me there was no return now to the rock. I thought of my
home with a gloomy dread lest I should have to return to it. Such
forebodings, however, were rare and did not interfere with my complete
enjoyment of present pleasures. Along with them I caught the manners of
the little aristocrats of my sister's school. It was an ideal company of
boys and girls, handsome, re