Daily independent. [volume] (Elko, Nev.) 188?-1915, 1890-05-14

A City Mans Return to tho Scenes or HIs
Childhood.

Childhood.
It was a hot, cloudless day in August.
A gentle breeze was stirring. and. sit
ting on the little back porch of the old
farmhouse and looking across vista of
yellow stubble-f1elds to the dark line Of
woods, nearly half mile away. could
soc the tops of the tallest trees swaying
gently, and could almost, / fancied, hear
the faint rustling of their leaves, of the
music of which l have ever, since a
child, been over-fond, writes Ed E.
Pritchard, in the Arkansaw Traveller.
1t had been three years since / had
visited the old farm, three long years of
toll ut the desk, amid the noise and busy
strife of great metropolis, and this was
my first day of a short weeks vacation
at the old home. among the friends of
my boyhood days and the scenes of the
happiest years of my life.
l had reached the farm about ten
o'clock in the morning, and. after
bounteous dinner at noon, was sitting
on the porch, the coolest place, as well
know, about the house, feasting my eyes
on tho dear old landscape that had
known so long, and which, during all the
years that had been away from it, was
always charming picture that, though
paradoxical it may sound, had only to
shut my eyes to see at will.
must get to those woods, and that at
once. No matter that the afternoon
August sun was sending down his fiercest
rays, no matter that must walk half a
mile across stubble-felds, which, from
whore I sat, could see were almost
quivering with heat, know what sweet,
familiar sounds shall hear, what a re-
freshing GOODNESS and quiet shall find
when / have reached their green and
shady depths. Even while am think
ing of these things, solitary crow with
loud ''caw! caw!" flies swiftly over the
stubble-fclds, high in air, and light
ing on tho top of huge oak sends forth
a series of oXultant "cawsl" to his mates
whom he has left in the orchard back of
tho barn. To mo he seems to say to them:
"There are no hons nests in that old
straw-stack. Why stay over there in that
hot, broiling sun? Come over here
into these grand old woods. Hard by
is the creek, and 1 know q dark and
shady pool where we can battle, and be-
low it shining, singing ripple, whore
we can wade and play to our hearts con-
tent"
Evidently, they understood the moan
ing Of his cries, for moment later q
bcvy of the black and saucy rascals 60
scurrying across tho fields and join him,
where they all set up perfect chorus
of 'caws? which l take to be express
sions OF approval of their companions
suggestion.
Hastily divesting myself of coat and
vest, for in the country it is no breach
OF etiquette Ito go in your shirt
slceves," step into the hall and take
from the rack a wide-brimmed straw
hat, and after O brief stop at the old
spring-houso at tho foot OF tho hill, am
off, rs tho crows fly, across fields for
tho woods.
I hastily scramble over the fence, and
live minutes later l stand under the
thick shade of tho wide-sproading
branches of q grand old beech tree
and on the edgo of steep bluff, ut
whose base runs tho turbulent but TO-
mantle Little Wildcat creek. l throw
myself down on tho grass, which is hero
SO luXuriant that it is softor than tho
heaviest carpet, and there lie for half
an hour idly listening to the soft and
indcscribablo music of tho waters be-
low. Then, having cooled off, / 20
down to tho waters edgo and DELHI
cratoly disrobe and-''go in swimmin'."
Mind, don't say bathing, for had no
bathing suit. just did as wo boys used
to do years ago-''just stripped off and
went in swimmin'." You sec, there was
nobody there to look except tho birds
and the squirrels and an old black
water snake which / caught summing
himself out on rock ut tho waters
edge, and which ruthlcsslJ killed with
q club.
low did enjoy that swim, that frolic
all by myself in tho water! Tired of
that, continued my stroll until cool
ness of tho air and rapidly-doepening
shadows warned mo that it was time to
turn my face homeward.