M'arthur Democrat. (McArthur, Vinton County, Ohio) 1853-1865, 1855-08-23
90 'NON'T you remember?" Are
" those three magic words-a

20 'NON'T you remember?" Are
" those three magic words-a
key wherewith we may unlock the
iloodgates Of the heart, and send the
sweet waters Of the past over the plains
and down the hills of that ,air land,
known in our heart-experieuce as by
gone? Even so. There rise before
us visions Of time when the bright,
deep eyes oi the young spring gazed
ShyIy at us from beneath the ermined
mantle of winter-when the blue vio-
lets stole their first tint from the blue
SKY above; when the cowslips OF sunny
May, and the golden-heaned butter
cups first jewelled the slender blades of
grass; and the hawthorn grew White
with its blossoms when we roamed
the woods the whole of that long,
warm, Ioyeable June holiday, wearing
garlandS and listening to the concert
Of birds in that dark, mistcto-wreath-
ed, oaken forest. There was one, in
years agone, that prayed: "Lord, keep
my memory green;" and the clinging
tendriIs OF our hearts go ever back
yeamingIy to this prayer.
But green and fresh as the poets
prayer, had the heart OF Ben Bolt been
kept. From his early boyhood 10 the
hour he sat by his old friend, and list
ened 10 the song OF by.gone days.
No: "ihIough a glass, darkly," Gid he
review those scenes OF the past, but it
was the going back of boy-heart to
others oil childhood.
There was a little red school-house,
with its dusty windows, and desks that
had been nicked many time, trying
pen>kl.ives; its tall, stern. looking teach
er, whose heavy voice caused the
younger ones to tremble; its rows Of
boys and girls with their heads bent
attentively downward to their books
ard states. The wild winter wind sang
and whistled without, and some few
childish hearts tried 10 find words for
It's mourn!ul notes, they wese too young
and happy TO haow that it carried Ges-
olation and heart-ache in its wall, yet
did they learn it in after years?
Then there came lew light, round
snow balls, so tiny that it must have
been the sport OF the snow spirits, in
their eldrich revels, changing, by and
by, TO leathery flakes that danced about
osor 90 gally. dow the children's
eyes grew bright, as they looked al
one another, and thought OF the mer-
ry rides down the hill, and the snow
baIllng Ihatwould make the play ground
ring again. The last lessons were
said, books and states put aside, and,
in the place of the silence, reigned
gay glad voices. Kate Ashley shook
back her pretty ringets, and laughed
through her sparkling eyes, as she gay e
jamie Marvin that bit of curl he had
teased so long Tor, because she knew
jamie had the prettieSt sled in the whole
school. All, a bit Of a coquelte was
the same gleeful, ronfping Kate. And
there was Sophie Dale, looking as de.
mure as q kitten walking from pan OF
new milk; and as playful as kitten,
too, was she, in spite of her quiet
looks; and the stateIy Elizabeth
Queen Bess they called her-and |
question if England's Queen had a
laughter carriage. But apart from
those who were eagerly looking for
friends 10 take them home stood Alice
May-sweet Alice. Very beautiful
and loveable was she with her winsome
childish lace, blue yes, ard soft brown
curls. She was so delicate and fragile,
you might almost fancy her a snow
child or lost fairy babe.
Nearly all the children had depart.
ed, amid the joyful shouts and iinelipg