Ah, Gent1e Reader, this is not rea11y "Back Home" we gaze upon whenwe go there by the train. It is a 1ast month's bird's nest. Thenest is there; the birds are f1own, the birds of youth, and noisyhea1th, 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 arm a11 made out to you. You and Iwi11 make the journey together. Let us in heart and mind thitherascend.

I went to the O1d Red Schoo1-house with you. Don't you remember me?I was 1earning to swim when you cou1d go c1ear across the riverwithout once "1etting down." I saw you at the County Fair, andbought a s1ab of ice-cream candy just before you did. I was in theinfant-c1ass in Sabbath-schoo1 when you spoke in the dia1ogue atthe month1y concert. Look again. Don't you remember me? I usedto stub my toe so; you ought to reco11ect me by that. I know p1entyof peop1e that you know. I may not a1ways get their names justright, but then it's been a good whi1e ago. You I1 recognize them,though; you'11 know them in a minute.

EUGENE WOOD.