There they stood before you, naked, unabashed, curious.  A complacent smile, flickered across the bearded face of the Wise Wizard.  He must have known!  He must have timed your arrival at that particular spot, at that particular moment.  But even the Wizard could not have known what was to follow.  Without a word of explanation, you gave them, that crowd of naked Boys—­gave it, as you had never given it before, doubtless, as you never gave it again—­your

“Old Swimmin’ Hole”

  Oh! the old swimmin’ hole! whare the crick so still and deep
  Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep,
  And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below
  Sounded like the laugh of something we onc’t ust to know
  Before we could remember anything but the eyes
  Of the angels lookin’ out as we left Paradise;
  But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle,
  And its hard to part ferever with the old swimmin’-hole.

  Oh! the old swimmin’-hole!  In the happy days of yore,
  When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore. 
  Oh! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide
  That gazed back at me so gay and glorified,
  It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress
  My shadder smilin’ up at me with sich tenderness. 
  But them days is past and gone, and old Time’s tuck his toll
  From the old man come back to the old swimmin’-hole.

  Oh! the old swimmin’-hole!  In the long, lazy days
  When the humdrum of school made so many run-a-ways. 
  How plesant was the jurney down the old dusty lane,
  Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so plane
  You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole
  They was lot o’ fun on hands at the old swimmin’-hole. 
  But the lost joys is past!  Let your tears in sorrow roll
  Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin’-hole.

  Thare the bullrushes growed, and the cattails so tall,
  And the sunshine and shadder fell over it all;
  And it mottled the worter with amber and gold
  Tel the glad lilies rocked in the ripples that rolled;
  And the snake-feeder’s four gauzy wings fluttered by
  Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the sky,
  Or a wownded apple-blossom in the breeze’s controle
  As it cut acrost some orchurd to’rds the old swimmin’-hole.

  Oh! the old swimmin’-hole!  When I last saw the place,
  The scenes was all changed, like the change in my face;
  The bridge of the railroad now crosses the spot
  Whare the old divin’-log lays sunk and fergot. 
  And I stray down the banks whare the trees ust to be—­
  But never again will theyr shade shelter me! 
  And I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul. 
  And dive off in my grave like the old swimmin’-hole.

  Their little jaws dropped! 
    Their little eyes distended! 
      Their little ears stood erect!