Darwin Powers, an old but frisky man, stood up beside the
fiddlers, whistling, with sobriety and vigour, as they played. It was
a pleasure to see some of the older men of the neighbourhood join
the dizzy riot by skipping playfully in the corners. They tried to
rally their unwilling wives, and generally a number of them were
dancing before the night was over. The life and colour of the
scene, the fresh, young faces of the girls some of them models of
rustic beauty - the playful antics of the young men, the
merrymaking of their fathers, the laughter, the airs of gallantry, the
glances of affection - there is a magic in the thought of it all that
makes me young again.
There were teams before and behind us when we came home, late
at night, so sleepy that the stars went reeling as we looked at them.
'This night is the end of many things,' I remarked.
'And the beginning of better ones, I hope,' was her answer.
'Yes, but they are so far away,' I said, 'you leave home to study and
I am to be four years in college-possibly I can finish in three.
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