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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
132
There
was
but
one
summers
holiday
for
us
who
worked
in
the
mills--the
Fourth
of
July.
We
made
a
point
of
spending
it
out
of
doors,
making
excursions
down
the
river
to
watch
the
meeting
of
the
slow
Concord
and
the
swift
Merrimack;
or
around
by
the
old
canal-path,
to
explore
the
mysteries
of
the
Guard
Locks;
or
across
the
bridge,
clambering
up
Dracut
Heights,
to
look
away
to
the
dim
blue
mountains.
On
that
morning
it
was
our
custom
to
wake
one
another
at
four
o'clock,
and
start
off
on
a
tramp
together
over
some
retired
road
whose
chief
charm
was
its
unfamiliarity,
returning
to
a
very
late
breakfast,
with
draggled
gowns
and
aprons
full
of
dewy
wild
roses.
No
matter
if
we
must
get
up
at
five
the
next
morning
and
go
back
to
our
hum-drum
toil,
we
should
have
the
roses
to
take
with
us
for
company,
and
the
sweet
air
of
the
woodland
which
lingered
about
them
would
scent
our
thoughts
all
day,
and
make
us
forget
the
oily
smell
of
the
machinery.
We
were
children
still,
whether
at
school
or
at
work,
and
Nature
still
held
us
close
to
her
motherly
heart.
Nature
came
very
close
to
the
mill-gates,
too,
in
those
days.
There
was
green
grass
all
around
them;
violets
and
wild
geraniums
grew
by
the
canals;
and
long
stretches
of
open
land
between
the
corporation
buildings
and
the
street
made
the
town
seem
country-like.
The
slope
behind
our
mills
(the
"Lawrence"
Mills)
was
a
green
lawn;
and
in
front
of
some
of
them
the
overseers
had
gay
flower-gardens;
we
passed
in
to
our
work
through
a
splendor
of
dahlias
and
hollyhocks.
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