Modesty forbids their repetition, and doubtless youthful enthusiasm accounted for their absurdity.
One other he mentioned in his speech—a stranger whom, long ago, he had met on the upland road.
Thus Tommy in his maiden speech.
Three years later he brought a bride to Camslove, and her name was Madge, and the rest of us live on in much the old way, excepting of course the poet, who, as a married man, affects a fine pity for us less fortunate ones.
And yet we are not altogether the same men, I fancy, as in those days.
The vicar's house has become a perfect playground for the poet's children, and my own is occasionally sadly mauled by certain sacrilegious nephews, much to the annoyance of my man.
The doctor is president, and indeed the shining light of the village cricket team, and we, at Camslove, flatter ourselves that we can put up a very decent game.
So I lay aside my pen awhile and read what I have written, and as I read I am glad that I am led from garden to valley, and stream, and mill, and over the common, and up the windy down.
For if a boy's will be indeed the wind's will, let it be that of the wind on the heath, which the gipsies breathe. And if the thoughts of a boy be long, long thoughts, let them be born of earth, and air, and sun.
And his sins, since sin and sunlight are incompatible, must needs be easy of correction.