"I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the schoolboy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' "There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. And the words of that fatal song Come over me like a chill: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' "Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street, As they balance up and down, Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering still: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' "And Deering's woods are fresh and fair, And with joy that is almost pain My heart goes back to wander there, And among the dreams of the days that were I find my lost youth again. And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory still: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'" Those are some of its verses, and what "Deering" is to Longfellow, "Helstonleigh" is to me. The Birmingham stage-coach came into Helstonleigh one summer's night, and stopped at its destination, the Star-and-Garter Hotel, bringing with it some London passengers. The direct line of rail to Helstonleigh from London was not then opened; and this may serve to tell you how long it is ago. A lady and a little girl stepped from the inside of the coach, and a gentleman and three boys got down from the outside. The latter were soaking. Almost immediately after leaving Birmingham, to which place the rail had conveyed them, the rain had commenced to pour in torrents, and those outside received its full benefit. The coach was crammed, inside and out, but with the other passengers we have nothing to do. We have with these; they were the Halliburtons. For the town which Mr. Halliburton had been desirous to remove to, the one in which his cousin, Mrs. Dare, resided, was no other than Helstonleigh. Mrs. Halliburton drew a long face when she set eyes on her husband's condition. "Edgar! you must be wet through and through!" "Yes, I am. There was no help for it." "You should have come inside when I wanted you to do so," she cried, in a voice of distress. "You should indeed." "And have suffered you to take my place outside? Nonsense, Jane!" Jane looked at the hotel. "We had better remain here for the night. What do you think?"