The weekly Minnesotian. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1852-1858, 1855-09-01
9csrrsspsndenee q shs Dainness.i.n. 8
.;i PANToN, VT, August Is, 1855.

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renowned institution. 1t is in a prosperou
condition, with President Labaree at its hea
and an able corps of Professors. The era
duating class acquitted themselves with dig
nifty, and honor to themselves and their Aim
Mater. We shall be disappointed'if some q
them do not eventually amount as high o,
the ladder of Fame as some who before, OIL
like occasion, have stood upon that platform
The addresses before the Philomathisian ant
Philadelphian Societies and Alumni were
by Professor Lewis of Remin College, Rev
Byron Sunderland, of Washington, d. c..
and Rev. DR.. Stone, President of University
at Kalamazoo, Michigan-all rich in thought
sound in logic, and sparkling with poetic
fancy. The Poet orator was Mr.. Parker, Of
Brooklyn. The poem was rich gem Of
Inventive genius, but the brilliant mind OF
the writer is evidently soon to glow in
brighter spheres where it can swell in more
glorious strains. His voice was too feeble to
be heard distinctly but few feet from the
stand, and 'passing away" is written on
every lineament Of his face. Alas I that such
talents should so early withdraw it's potent
influence from earth. The whole terminated
in grand levee at Professor Robbins in the
evening, where learning, wit and fashion,
We'd for the mastery.
And now commencement over, "I stand
upon my native hills again." while emotions
pleasing and painful at once swell my heart.
Every spot is fragrant with childhood memo
ries. roam amid the green old trees and
the same dancing shadows inter,ningle with
the merry sunlight. The same flowers are
growing from the crevices of the same grey
old rocks. The same gooseberry bushes are
growing upon the ledge, and pick therefrom
the same rough fruit. The same birds are
singinging in the Eastwood and elm. But
the friends of my childhood where are they?
Echo answers, "where are they 2" go to
the country 'graye yard" and upon white
stone read the names of some with whom I
have "taken sweet councils" with whomI
have We'd in school days and with whom ri
have walked to the house of God in COM
pany," and there comes spirit whisper to my
spirit, "They are before the Great White
Throne"
The old Church is torn down, and one of
more modern style in its place. The old
remains, but [ seek no kindred
there, and the rose and myrtle vines which
my own hands had trained with so much
,are, are overrun with weeds and thistles
The lofty elm, whose sweeping branches en-
braced the old farmhouse, is cut down, and
Lhe dense foliage of the fruit trees is gone
hey have withered and died from neglect
Home is home no longer
The mulmuring brook flows untirinsly on,
md by its side still stands the stone school
iouse where l learned my A. b. c., but its
Internal arrangement is changed and stranger
aces appear behind those painted desks.
Thc same dignified maps shadow its front,
md as ! see the merry children at play in
he dark shade am lost in dream of the
Past. am child again, gathering pebbles
rom the brook to adorn our tiny playhouse.
| sit beneath the natural bridge which spans
this streanlet Willing away the sunny moon,
and watch the bird which always builds her
nest in the crevice Of the great blue rock
above. But the waters have been gathered
in an unruffled pool. A face is reflected
therefrom, start in surprise-my dream is
O'er-it is the same, but CHANGE is legibly
written there. It's roundness is gone and
rigid care has left its traces. In short it is
older than when the long warm summer days
would seemingly never be gone, and when l
only tired with chasing the butterfly and i'm
prisoning the grasshopper. l start with the
vague consciousness that years have flown,
and that have grown to be woman-have
battled with life's stern realities in far off
land-yea, the beautiful West. But in my
hearts deep, inmost core, this is sacred
spot!
Tho years had elapsed since gazed on the scene
Which fancy still ROBBED in its freshness
The spot when a school girl all thoughtless strayed
By the side of the stream in the CLEAN Of the shade
All balmy childhood Thou art rich in
fragrant sweets, and little, amid thy cherished
sports, dids't thou foreshadow Lies real
design-Life's battlefield filled with thorny
paths and fiowery lawns. But courage arms
for every conflict. What a high and holy
commission is life! What a sacred trust re-
posed in erring mortals. What veal or woe
accrue from its use. Change is written on
all below the sun. Few of my childhood
friends remain-they are gone,
{. Some to the bridal and some to the tomb,''
And this moment stand amid earth's most
familiar scenes-alone! A century hence
and those who are now the busy actors in
life's drama will all have passed away and
another generation will tread upon their dust
The dead are the teachers Of the living. The
sweet odor of good name and life vel
srent, how precious.
FLoRILLA FLEETWOOD.
WETTING BRICKs.-It is important thai
every one engaged in building should be wei
inf )rmed in regard to the durability of ma
terials. We publish tie following from al
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