We win wealth and a name for these, and but for them, all that is
innate would be only alloy. They must reflect the bliss it brings, or
it has no sweetness. Can there be a soul so sordid as to riot in
pleasure and triumphs all alone--to shun companionship, and hate
participation in the joys that come of successful life?
I am in the midst of the scenes of my childhood, with here and there
one friend left, who shared with me the school-hours, Saturday rambles,
and sports of early boyhood. With these the memories come fresh and
vigorous of the then occurring incidents--the fishings, the
Saturday-night raccoon hunts, the forays upon orchards and
melon-patches, and the rides to and from the old, country church on the
Sabbath; the practical jokes of which I was so fond, and from which
even my own father was not exempt. Kind reader, indulge the garrulity
of age, and allow me to recount one of these. There are a few who will
remember it; for they have laughed at it for fifty years. I never knew
my father to tell a fib but upon one occasion in my life. Under the
circumstances, I am sure the kindly nature will, at least, allow it to
be a white one.
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