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Excerpt from Come Hither, Vol. 1: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages
IN my rovings and ramblings as a boy I had often skirted the old stone house in the hollow. But my first clear remembrance of it is of a hot summer's day. I had climbed to the crest of a hill till then unknown to me, and stood there, hot and breathless in the bright slippery grass, looking down on its grey walls and chimneys as if out of a dream. And as if out of a dream already familiar to me.
My real intention in setting out from home that morn ing had been to get to a place called East Dene. My mother had often spoken to me of East Dene-of its trees and waters and green pastures, and the rare birds and ¿owers to be found there. Ages ago, She had told me, an ancestor of our family had dwelt in this place. But she smiled a little strangely when I asked her to take me there. All in good time, my dear, she whispered into my ear,'
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