Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer BACK HOME By Eugene Wood TO THE SAINTED MEMORY OF HER WHOM, IN THE DAYS BACK HOME, I KNEW AS “MY MA MAG” AND WHO WAS MORE TO ME THAN I CAN TELL, EVEN IF MY TARDY WORDS COULD REACH HER THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED “That she who is an angel now Might sometimes think of me” CONTENTS INTRODUCTION THE OLD RED SCHOOL-HOUSE THE SABBATH-SCHOOL THE REVOLVING YEAR THE SWIMMING-HOLE THE FIREMEN'S TOURNAMENT THE DEVOURING ELEMENT CIRCUS DAY THE COUNTY FAIR CHRISTMAS BACK HOME INTRODUCTION GENTLE READER:--Let me make you acquainted with my book, “Back Home.” (Your right hand, Book, your right hand. Pity's sakes! How many times have I got to tell you that? Chest up and forward, shoulders back and down, and turn your toes out more.) It is a little book, Gentle Reader, but please don't let that prejudice you against it. The General Public, I know, likes to feel heft in its hand when it buys a book, but I had hoped that you were a peg or two above the General Public. That mythical being goes on a reading spree about every so often, and it selects a book which will probably last out the craving, a book which “it will be impossible to lay down, after it is once begun, until it is finished.” (I quote from the standard book notice). A few hours later the following dialogue ensues: “Henry!” “Yes, dear.” “Aren't you 'most done reading?” “Just as soon as I finish this chapter.” A sigh and a long wait. “Henry!” “Yes, dear.” “Did you lock the side-door?” No answer. “Henry! Did you?” “Did I what?” “Did you lock the side-door?” “In a minute now.” “Yes, but did you?” “M-hm. I guess so.” “'Guess so!' Did you lock that side-door? They got in at Hilliard's night before last and stole a bag of clothes-pins.” “M.” “Oh, put down that book, and go and lock the side-door. I'll not get a wink of sleep this blessed night unless you do.” “In a minute now. Just wait till I finish this...” “Go do it now.” Mr. General Public has a card on his desk that says, “Do it Now,” and so he lays down his book with a patient sigh, and comes back to it with a patent grouch. “Oh, so it is,” says the voice from the bedroom. “I remember now, I locked it myself when I put the milk-bottles out.... I'm going to stop taking of that man unless there's more cream on the top than there has been here lately.” “M.” “Henry!” “Oh, what is it?” “Aren't you 'most done reading?” “In a minute, just as soon as I finish this chapter.” “How long is that chapter, for mercy's sakes?” “I began another.” “Henry!” “What?” “Aren't you coming to bed pretty soon? You know I can't go to sleep when you are sitting up.”