d completely in the present, and rather on the edge
nearest the future, so that a teacher later said of him that he was in
constant danger of "falling off forward." Highstrung and restless,
sitting still did not come naturally until he had learned to read books
all by himself, and he could hardly be called introspective. While prone
to futile regrets, largely under the influence of his mother's morbid
attitude, he gave little attention as a rule to what was past and gone.

Here was an exception, however--something concerning the past that
stirred his curiosity powerfully--and it became his first subject
for brooding.

He could remember all sorts of things, of course. And it seemed that he
had always remembered them. Yet his mother was able to tell him things
of which he knew nothing at all, although they had happened to himself.
There might be any number of such things. What were they? Could he
recall any of them by thinking hard enough?

When this problem laid hold of his mind he would retire to the corner
between the big bureau and the right-hand window in the living-room,
which, by formal conferment, was reserved for him as his own
"play-room." The space in that nook was large enough to hold a small
chair, a table to match, and a few toy boxes. There he would sit staring
blindly at his toys until his mother anxiously inquired what was the
matter with him.

The great question taking precedence of all the rest was: what was the
very first thing he could remember?

With puckered brows and peering pupils he would send his gaze back into
the misty past, and out of it emerged invariably the same image.

He saw himself seated on a small wooden horse fastened to a little
platform with wheels under it. The horse was black with white spots, and
possessed a nobly curved neck, a head with ears on top of it, and a pair
of fiercely red nostrils.

The next thing recurring to his mind was a sense of swift, exhilarating
movement. His father stood at one end of the living-room, his mother at
the other, and the horse with himself on it was being pushed rapidly
back and forth between them.

He could even hear his own joyous shouts as his father sent the horse
careering across the floor by an extra strong push. The general
impression left behind by the whole scene was one of happiness so acute
that nothing else in his life compared with it.

Was it a real memory? If so, when did it happen? And what had become of
the horse?