8 ^tnuntu of ti^e JUvttu 



dew from their faces ? Oh, the thrill 

 and the joy of it all ! It will not come 

 again. You might take off your shoes 

 and scuff in the dew now, but it would 

 not be the same. The trouble is, your 

 heart is no longer the heart of a boy. 



Over the brook was a quaint little stone 

 bridge. The sunlight filtered down be- 

 tween the stones, and fell upon the clear 

 water beneath. Out in the open the sun- 

 light was transparent and nearly colour- 

 less, but down under the bridge, it was a 

 shaft of burnished gold. How my heart 

 thumped as I shook out the twine line 

 and tossed the pin hook into the spark- 

 ling brook. 



With what eagerness I watched it 

 drift to and fro, and what a thrill it gave, 

 each time the swirl caught the worm and 

 tugged at the line. Then there was a 

 flash of something bright through the 



