You remember how by that thorn-tree and pool, where the geese were
performing a prodigious evening concert, there might be seen, at a
certain hour, somebody in a certain cloak and bonnet, who happened to
be coming from a village yonder, and whose image has flickered in that
pool. In that pool, near the thorn? Yes, in that goose-pool, never mind
how long ago, when there were reflected the images of the geese--and
two geese more. Here, at least, an oldster may have the advantage of
his young fellow-travellers, and so Putney Heath or the New Road may be
invested with a halo of brightness invisible to them, because it only
beams out of his own soul.
I have been reading the "Memorials of Hood" by his children,* and wonder
whether the book will have the same interest for others and for younger
people, as for persons of my own age and calling. Books of travel to any
country become interesting to us who have been there. Men revisit the
old school, though hateful to them, with ever so much kindliness and
sentimental affection. There was the tree under which the bully licked
you: here the ground where you had to fag out on holidays, and so
forth. In a word, my dear sir, YOU are the most interesting subject
to yourself, of any that can occupy your worship's thoughts.
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