Going Back 



managed; and looking back to these 

 beginnings I can easily see that what 

 appealed more than anything else in 

 life in the days of which I write was 

 that which came with the iron clamor 

 of the big school bell's tongue sound- 

 ing across the village roofs and open 

 fields ; a call that will ever be associated 

 in one boy's mind with the coming of 

 the frost. He confesses to a fondness 

 still for drifting snows. A withering 

 August sun recalls too many old-time 

 dog-day drudgeries. Did you ever 

 hoe corn or potatoes all day in July? 

 Did you ever milk cows and carry 

 "swill" to a hundred hungry, squeal- 

 ing pigs after a hot day's work was 

 supposed to be done? And no swim- 

 ming hole within a mile, and no bath 

 tubs in the house? Ever stow hay 

 away with a pitchfork in a mow under 

 a blazing roof? No? Well, some of us 

 have, and the pleasantest memories of 

 our youth do not all date from those 

 inevitable mid-summer tasks. How- 



