revolutions went on under the round jackets, and what love-tokens
lay in the pockets thereof. What plots and counterplots occupied the
heads that wore the innocent-looking snoods, and what captives were
taken in the many-colored nets that would come off and have to be
taken care of. What romances blossomed like dandelions along the
road to school, and what tales the river might have told if any one
could have learned its musical speech. How certain gates were
glorified by daily lingerings thereat, and what tender memories hung
about dingy desks, old pens, and books illustrated with all manner
of symbolical designs.

Let those laugh who will; older and wiser men and women might have
taken lessons of these budding heroes and heroines; for here all was
honest, sincere, and fresh; the old world had not taught them
falsehood, self-interest, or mean ambitions. When they lost or won,
they frankly grieved or rejoiced, and wore no masks except in play,
and then got them off as soon as possible. If blue-eyed Lizzie
frowned, or went home with Joe, Ned, with a wisdom older lovers
would do well to imitate, went in for another game of foot-ball,
gave the rejected apple to little Sally, and whistled "Glory
Hallelujah," instead of "Annie Laurie," which was better than
blowing a rival's brains out, or glowering at woman-kind forever
after. Or, when Tom put on Clara's skates three successive days, and
danced with her three successive evenings, leaving Kitty to freeze
her feet in the one instance and fold her hands in the other, she
just had a "good cry," gave her mother an extra kiss, and waited
till the recreant Tom returned to his allegiance, finding his little
friend a sweetheart in nature as in name.

Dick and Dolly were foremost in the ranks, and expert in all the new