The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-04-28
The Old Sawnllll.
BY HENRY WARD BEECuKg.

Oh, that blessed day
What wSs that? Fourth of July?
General training day9 Thanksgiving
Christmas None of all these. Far more
important to our heart was the day when
we first went fishing alone
Whether we had permission we cannot
at this late period certainly determine
We presume, from the recollection of the
anxiety, and the distinct remembrance of
general exhilaration, that we had q dis
pensation on that day to roam.
There is vague impression, too, of
digging worms. of putting piece of twine
on to pole. Then went we forth east
ward toward the River Bantam Now the
River Bantam was to our young heart
what the Jordan was to good and patri-
otic Jew. 1t was.the chief stream in our
neighborhood. 1t was the chief resort
for swimming purposes. For, though it was
hardly knee-deep, and, in many places,
easily jumped across, yet there were.pools,
and notable one, called Lords Hole !"
doubtless from Litchfield family of the
name of LOrd), where small boy could
go in over head" 1t was one of those
clear brooks-a mere brook, which mostly
brawls over pebble stones, now and then
widening into quite sheet, and then, like
meH who have been too generous, grow
ing narrow again, and deep. Along its
banks grew alder bushes in abundance,
end here and there great trees reached
their branches over the stream and
watched themselves in the water below.
Not great way above Lords Hole was
the "old sawmill;" not that there was
then mill, or even mill dam, but tradi-
ton said that there had been one, and the
legend was probable, inasmuch as two
steep banks on either side, sloping up
some twenty feet, seemed to have formed
the wings of dam and the water made
fall as if, underneath, there was the re-
mains of some obstruction.
On the blessed day above mentioned,
barefoOted boy might have been seen on
June afternoon, with his alder pole on
his shoulder, tripping through the
meadow, where dandeliOns and wild &C.
raneums were in bloom, and steering for
the old saw-mill AS soon as the meadow
was crossed the fence scaled, and de-
scent begun, all familiar objects were
gone, and the overpowering consciousness
of being dlone set ones Imagination into
dance of fear. Could we find our way
back? What if big bull should come
out of those bushes? What if a great big
man should come along and carry us off,
To a six-year old boy these were very Sc
rious matters. And nothing could have
so well tested the eagerness of our purpose
as perseverance under these sOul-bewil
dering suggestions. For realities, in after
life, are seldom SO impressive as imagina
tions are in carly life. A child's fears are
cruel. They are to him the signs of abSo-
lutte realities, and he is quite unable to
reason on them, and is helpless to repel or
to endure them. The fears of our own
childhood constitute a chapter Of mental
philosophy.
But no sooner did we see the sparkle of
the water than our soul grew calm again,
and happy.
Now, for the first time in our lives, we
put on a worm. We threw in the hook
and trembled all over.
The hook and the bait fell upon the
wrinkled water, went quietly down the
stream, and swept in near the shore,
where some projecting stone rooted over
alittle pool. Out OF that pool our little
eyes saw something dart, and our little
hands, all a-tremble, felt something pull.
In an instant, with spasm OF energy, we
drew back the line, there was flash In
the air, wiggling flash, and something
smote the rocky, gravelly bank behind.
Scrambling up, we fOuni sh.aer, but,
alas, smashed to pieces Soon another
and another Jared in the same manner,
and it was long before we could subduc
our nerve so as not to dash the fish to
pieces. Our courage grew every moment.
What did oe care il there was bull IN
the bushes? What if beggar- man st0ntd
come along? What if great black dog
SHOULDN'T that thought was little too
serious Black dogs were tsrrors not to
be lightly thought ST, even by six-year
old urchin, who had caught fish, alone,
too! And SO gathering up two
roach and three shiners, we started
home. Up the sloping hill we ran,
till our fathers house shonc out from
among the trees, and then, with the dig
nifty and n5nchdlance of coDquerOr, we
prepared to make a triumphal entrance
But here, as often happens in the remln
iscences of our childhood, the vision fails.
We can recollect nothing of our reception.
Since then we have fished in many a
stream and lake, and in the deep sea
but never with half the exhilaratlon OF
that first joyful hour upon the Bantam!
Not even there, again, would the fire be
re-kindled! For, not long after, taking a
younger brother, 10 be a marvel ng Wit
ness OF our success, we went again to the
old sawmill. The air was dlsenchanted.
The roads and bushes had no spirit IN
them. The brook gurgled and rushed
We caught our fish, a few, but without
craze, and came solemnly home, wondering
what the reason could be that the first
time could be had but once.
Since then we have seen many grown
mp boys seeking to reproduce the first sen
satiOns and to make novelties perpetual.
But each day must provide its own first
/, times Those of Yesterday are Shrunk