CHAPTER I.

Life began in an old cottage, Near the margin of a stream, Close beside a grand old forest, Where I saw the sunlight gleam O’er the hills lit up with splendor By the radiance of its light, Searching out the dim recesses Of the borders of the night.

Shimm’ring o’er the vales and woodlands Wak’ning all the birds and flowers; Caressing breezes through the leaflets, Murmuring in fairy bowers. Oh, the melody of song-birds, I can hear it, hear it still, Flooding all the fields and woodlands, Rising o’er the rippling rill.

And I hear the tinkle, tinkle Of the bells and lowing kine, Echo, echo, down the grasslands, Near the cornland’s waving line. And I hear my father singing Quaint old songs by field and fell; Memory retains them fondly, Still I love on them to dwell.

And my school days were so happy; All my tasks seemed light as air, My companions kind and joyous, And the world was bright and fair. How we tripped along the hilltops, Played beside the quiet stream, Frolicked in the leafy woodlands, Where the lights and shadows dream.

There we planted in the springtime, Tilled in sultry summer weather; And the days went by so merry As we sung and wrought together. And we reaped the harvest gaily, Sending many golden wains From the wheatlands and the cornlands, Rich with summer’s welcome gains.

And we stored in golden autumn ’Gainst the white-robed winter time, Food in plenty for the household, And the fowls and many kine. And we laid away the apples, Hoards of russets, red and gold; Put the cider in the cellar, And defied the winter’s cold.

Then when the gold leaves were falling In the mellow light and shade, How we fought the frisky squirrels For the chestnuts in the glade. We had many nooks and crannies In the old house by the stream, Up among the dusty rafters, Where none but gay boys would dream.

And when winter’s storm-king covered All the hills in white array, And the legions of the northland Were assembled for the fray-- All the fierce and white-robed legions, Sweeping down from Arctic seas, Flinging out their frosted banners In defiance to the breeze--

And when day was darkly closing In fierce storm, and sleet, and cold, We secured the fowls in safety, Put the kine within the fold. Then with evening’s gathering darkness The warm lights were all agleam-- The bright, ruddy, dancing firelights In the old house by the stream.

And we boys went in a-romping With no ceremonial fear; All aglow with health and gladness To dear mother’s welcome cheer. Then we sought the nooks and crannies, Where the chestnuts could be found; Brought the cider from the cellar, Passed the ripened fruit around.

While with many a quaint old story Of weird legion, love and war, We whiled away the hours so happy, Scarcely ever knew a jar. And we joined with hearts o’erflowing In glad music and in song; Scarce dreaming of the world beyond us, With its mighty restless throng.

When the moon was brightly beaming, Silvering the icebound rill, We skated on the frozen streamlet, Or toboggan’d down the hill. Our light hearts were glad within us, And our blood was pure and warm, As we fought the white-robed legions, And defied the fiercest storm.

There was brother Jack and Molly Dean, Sister Nell and Lawrence Dare; And I and blue-eyed Minnie Lee, And scores of youths and maidens fair. How we made the hillside echo With song, and jest, and laughter gay; Frolicked to our hearts’ contentment, Then homeward wound our merry way.

And ’twas thus in peace and plenty The years went too swiftly by; We had never known a sorrow, Nor had scarcely felt a sigh. Ah, thou generous, good old home, Thy dear circle was complete; We had no absent ones to roam, “No weary wandering feet.”