A COMMON EXPERIENCE 



rheumatic twinges may have passed into 

 the realm of bygone ills. 



For a year, perhaps for many years, 

 he has yearned for a sight of some be- 

 loved haunt, endeared to him by old 

 and cherished associations. He fancies 

 that once more among the scenes of 

 his youthful exploits there will return to 

 him something of the boyish ardor, ex- 

 uberance of spirit and perfect freedom 

 from care that made the enjoyment of 

 those happy hours so complete. He 

 imagines that a draught from the old 

 spring that bubbles up in the shadow of 

 the beeches or from the moss-brimmed 

 basin of the trout brook will rejuvenate 

 him, at least for the moment while its 

 coolness lingers on his palate, as if he 

 quaffed Ponce de Leon's undiscovered 

 fountain. He doubts not that in the 

 breath of the old woods he shall once 

 more catch that faint, indescribable, but 

 unforgotten aroma, that subtle savor of 

 wildness, that has so long eluded him, 

 sometimes tantalizing his nostrils with a 

 touch, but never quite inhaled since its 

 pungent elixir made the young blood 

 tingle in his veins. 



