University of Virginia Library

21. A WALK IN CHILDHOOD.

When my years were few, I loved to sit under the
shadow of gray rugged rocks, and listen to the falling
waters. I learned to know where the first violets sprang,
and where the lily of the valley hid behind its broad
leaf; and where the forest nuts ripen, when the frost
sparkles upon the earth.

I saw the squirrel putting acorns in his nest for the
winter, and where the bee stores the essence, which singing,
she wins from the flowers. I sought to draw forth
the kindness of domestic animals, and to know the names
of the birds that yearly built in my father's trees.

But of my own race, who have the gift of reason, with
dominion over the beasts of the field and the fowls of the
air, I knew little; save of the parents who nurtured me,
and the few children with whom I had sometimes played
on the summer turf.

I said, “If the plant that flourishes only a few days
is happy, and the bird that bears to its young a single

broken cherry, and the poor lamb that has no friend but
its mother; how much happier must they be whom God
hath made to rule over them, and who are surrounded
by good things like a flowing river, and who know that
when they seem to die, it is but to live forever.”

So I desired to turn away from the herbs of the field,
and look more attentively upon the ways of men. Once,
I was permitted to walk abroad, when the dews of the
morning were fresh upon the grass, and all the things of
nature seemed beautiful, and full of love.

A group of children were in the streets. Methought
they were unwashed, and unfed. They clamored loudly,
with idle tongues. I asked them why they went not to
the schools, where knowledge was gathered. But they
mocked at me, and hasted away.

Two neighbors met each other. They were called
friends; but they spake loud, and angry words. Then
they quarrelled, and I was frightened at the blows they
dealt.

I saw a man with a fiery face. He was tall, and
strongly built, like the oak among the trees. Yet were
his steps unsteady as those of the tottering babe. He
lifted up a hoarse foolish song, like a creature without
understanding. Then he reeled, and fell heavily, as one
dead. I marvelled that no hand was stretched to raise
him up.

Again I walked forth, by the silent valley where the
dead repose. A coffin was let down into an open grave.

At its brink stood a widowed woman, with her little
ones. They looked sad, and bowed with trouble; yet,
methought, on their shrivelled brows the marks of famine
were deeper set than the seal of sorrow for the dead.

Then I asked in my wonder, “What made the parents
not pity their children when they hungered, nor call
them home when they were in wickedness? What made
the friends forget their first love? and the strong man
fall down senseless? and the young die before his time?”

Then a voice answered, “Intemperance! And there is
mourning in the land because of this.”

So I returned to my home sorrowing. And had God
given me a brother or sister, I would have thrown my
arms around their neck, and entreated, “Touch not your
lips to the poison-cup; but let us drink the pure water,
which God hath blessed, all the days of our lives.”