Aunt Mary's Memoirs: XVIII

We had gasoline lamps on our lane. Mornings and evenings we would see the old lamplighter carrying his ladder and torch from lamppost to lamppost, always with a happy greeting on his dark Italian face, very much like Robert Louis Stevenson's poem "The Old Lamplighter."
Sometimes we took long walks, my brothers and I, with the dog "Rover" running ahead to discover all the new and exciting scents and scenes. It was just a joy to be young and eager and explore all the goodness of the great outdoors. On the 4th of July there was a church picnic held at the foot of our farm on Umbria Street. This was always an event.