RUSTIC SOUNDS 



Sounds are to me more reminiscent than sights ; 

 they bring back the sensations of childhood, and 

 indeed all memories of my past life, in a way more 

 touching and clear than what is seen. Wendell 

 Holmes claims the sense of smell as most closely 

 associated with memory; for me, as I say, it is 

 that of hearing. 



In this paper I shall wander in imagination 

 through the different seasons in the home of my 

 youth, and let the recalled rustic sounds lead where 

 they will. 



To children there is something impressive and 

 almost sacred in the changes of the seasons, in the 

 onset of winter, or the clear approach of spring. 

 The first of these changes was heralded for me by 

 the appearance of puddles frozen to a shining white ; 

 mysterious because the frost had drunk them dry 

 in roofing them with ice, and especially delightful 

 in the sharp crackling sound they gave when 

 trodden on. This was the noise of the beginning 

 of winter. Another winter memory is the humming 

 whistle of the boys' feet as they slid on the village 

 pond, a remembrance that recalls my envious 

 admiration of their heavily nailed boots, giving 

 them an advantage in pace and a more noble 

 style of sliding. 



