Ah, Gentle Reader, this is not really "Back Home" we gaze upon whenwe go there by the train. It is a last month's bird's nest. Thenest is there; the birds are flown, the birds of youth, and noisyhealth, and ravenous appetite, and inexperience. You cannot go"Back Home" by train, but here is the magic wishing-carpet, and hereis your transportation in your hand all made out to you. You and Iwill make the journey together. Let us in heart and mind thitherascend.

I went to the 0ld Red School-house with you. Don't you remember me?I was learning to swim when you could go clear across the riverwithout once "letting down." I saw you at the County Fair, andbought a slab of ice-cream candy just before you did. I was in theinfant-class in Sabbath-school when you spoke in the dialogue atthe monthly concert. Look again. Don't you remember me? I usedto stub my toe so; you ought to recollect me by that. I know plentyof people that you know. I may not always get their names justright, but then it's been a good while ago. You Il recognize them,though; you'll know them in a minute.

EUGENE W00D.