In the circle of the hearth everything is good, but reminiscences are best of all. I sometimes think all life is valuable merely as an opportunity to accumulate reminiscences, and I am sure that the precious horde can be seen to best advantage by firelight. Then is the time for the miser to spread out his treasure and admire it. I remember once Jonathan and I were on a bicycle trip. My chain had broken and we had trudged eight long, hot, dusty miles to the river that had to be crossed that night. It was dark when we reached it, and it had begun to rain, a warm, dreary drizzle. As we stumbled over the railway track and felt our way past the little station toward the still smaller ferry-house, a voice from the darkness drawled, "Guess ye won't git the ferry to-night—last boat went half an hour ago."
It was the final blow. We leaned forlornly on our wheels and looked out upon the dark water, whose rain-quenched mirror dully reflected the lights of the opposite town. Finally I said, "Well, Jonathan, anyhow, we're making reminiscences."
This remark was, I own, not highly practical, but I intended it to be comforting, and if it failed—as it clearly did—to cheer Jonathan, that was not because it lacked wisdom, but because men are so often devoid of imagination save as an adornment of their easy moments.
Finally the same impersonal voice out of the dark uttered another sentence: "Might row ye 'cross if ye've got to go to-night."
"How much?" said Jonathan.
"Guess it's wuth a dollar. Mean night to be out there."
We had, between us, forty-seven cents and three street-car tickets, good in the opposite town. All this we meekly offered him, and in the pause that followed I added desperately, "And we can each take an oar and help."
"Wall— I'll take ye."
It seemed to me that the voice suggested an accompanying grin, but I had no proof.
And so we got across. We never saw the face of our boatman, but on the other side we felt for his hand and emptied our pockets into it—nickels and dimes and pennies, and the three car tickets; but as we were turning to grope our way up the dock the voice said, "Here—ye'll need two of them tickets to git home with. I do' want 'um."