THE SCENES OF CHILDHOOD.

Auckland Star, Volume XXI, Issue 4193, 24 November 1883, Page 9 (Supplement)

THE SCENES OF CHILDHOOD.

With what anguish of mind I remember my childhood, Uooulled in the light of a knowledge since gained; The malarious farm, the wet, funguagrown The chills tho'n contracted Uiat sinco have remained ; ■The sc.um-covored duck pond, the pigstyo close by it, The diU'h where, tho .sonrsmellins house drainage foil; The damp, shaded dwelling, the foul barnyunl nigh ItHat worno than all else was that tnrriblo well. And tht> old oaken bucket, tho mimld-cruwted bucket. Tlio mosa-coverod bliokot that hung in tho

Just think of it! Moss on the vessel that lifted The water I drank in the- da.vs called to mind. Kro I knew wlial professors nndi-cientistsgifted In the water (if wells, by analysis llml; Tm« rotting wood flbro, the oxide of iron, Tho ulgie, the frog of unusual size. The water -impuro us tho verses of Byron— Aro thlnt[a 1 remember with tours in my eyes.

And to toll the sad truth—though I shudder to think It - I eonskleicd that water uncommonly clear: And often ut nuon when 1 worn thereto drink it.

I enjoyed it us much as I now enjoy beor. How unk'nt 1 soiled it with bunds that were grimy ! And qi l.:k to the mud-covered bottom it fell. And !Om witli the nitrates and nitrites, and slimy With mutter organic, it rose from the well. Ohl had I bat reckoned, in time to avoid thorn, The danger that lurked in that pestilent draught, I'd have tested for organic germs, nnd destroyed thorn With potass permanganate ere I had quaffed: Or, perchance, I'd huvo boiled it, and afterward strained it, Through Illtcrs of charconl and gravel combined ; Or, after distilling, condensed, anil regained it, In potable form, with Ita llltli left behind, How little 1 know of the dread typhoid fovor Which lurked in the wator I ventured to drinkl But sineo I've become ;: devoted beliovov In f hotoiichlngsof sclcuco, I shudder to think; And now, far removed from the scenes I'm describing Tho story for warning to others I toll, As memory rovorta to my youthful imbibing. And I buk at. I he thought of thathorriblo wol And the old oaken bucket, that fungus-grown bucket, In fact, tho slop-bucket that hung at tho well.