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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
26
There
were
other
odd
estrays
going
about,
who
were
either
well
known,
or
could
account
for
them
selves.
The
one
human
phenomenon
that
filled
us
little
ones
with
mortal
terror
was
an
unknown
"man
with
a
pack
on
his
back."
I
do
not
know
what
we
thought
he
would
do
with
us,
but
the
sight
of
one
always
sent
us
breathless
with
fright
to
the
shelter
of
the
maternal
wing.
I
did
not
at
all
like
the
picture
of
Christian
on
his
way
to
the
wicket-gate,
in
"Pilgrim's
Progress,"
before
I
had
read
the
book,
because
he
had
"a
pack
on
his
back."
But
there
was
really
nothing
to
be
afraid
of
in
those
simple,
honest
old
times.
I
suppose
we
children
would
not
have
known
how
happy
and
safe
we
were,
in
our
secluded
lane,
if
we
had
not
conjured
up
a
few
imaginary
fears.
Long
as
it
is
since
the
rural
features
of
our
lane
were
entirely
obliterated,
my
feet
often
go
back
and
press,
in
memory,
its
grass-grown
borders,
and
in
delight
and
liberty
I
am
a
child
again.
Its
narrow
limits
were
once
my
whole
known
world.
Even
then
it
seemed
to
me
as
if
it
might
lead
everywhere;
and
it
was
indeed
but
the
beginning
of
a
road
which
must
lengthen
and
widen
beneath
my
feet
forever.
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