Morning journal and courier., 1881-06-24
The Boarding School Essay.
From the Brooklyn Eagle.l

''Could see the editor?" she asked, look ing around for him. and wondering what WAS going on under his table. 'Eh? yes, I'm him. responded the editor evolving himself and slipping cork into his vest pocket. ''What can do for you?'' T am a student at Packer Institute,' re- sponded the blushing damsel, land have written a little article on School Days which would like to have published in the Brooklyn Eagte, if you think it good enough"
 Certainly" replied the editor. gazing in unconscious admiration upon the beautiful face before him. ''Does 1t commence Our School days, how the words finger in sweet cadences on the strings of memory? Is that the way it runs?"
 'Why, yes,'' responded the beaming girl. ''Then it goes on, How we look forward from them to the time when we shall look back to them! How did you know?" ''Never mind" " said the editor, with the en- eaeing smile which had endeared him to the citizens of Brooklyn. 'After that comes, So sunshiny! So gilded with pleasures that make youth happy; they have flown into the as echoes in the caves of sweet recollection. Isn't that it?"
 Ut certainly is, /" answered the astonished girl radiant with delight. ''How could you know what had written?"
 ''Then it changes from the pianissimo and
 
 around our path. The roses of friendship are whitening, but may we hope that they will bloom again as we remember the affection that bound us here and made"
 ''No, you're wrong there," and the soft eyes looked disappointed.
 ''Is it Hope on, hope ever?'" asked the editor.
 ''That comes in further on. You had it nearly right. It is The dull shadows close around us The flowers of friendship are sleeping but not withered, and will bloom again in affectionate remembrance of the chains that bound us so lightly.''
 Strange, that I should have made that mistake,' said the editor, musingly, 'Inever missed on one before. From there it goes, 'Schoolmates, let us live so that all our days shall be as radiant as those we have known here, and may we pluck happiness from every bush, forgetting never that the thorns are below the roses and pitying those whose hands are bruised in the march through life D
 ''That's it!" exclaimed the delighted girl. And then comes Hope on, hope ever.'"
 "Sure's you're born!'' cried the editor, blushing with pleasure and once more on the righ track. ''Then it runs: And as for you, teachers dear?'"
 ''Yes, yes, you're right giggled the girl. 'I can't see how you found me outI Would you like to print it?'' and her face assumed an anxious shade
 Certainly" responded the editor. 'Tn say it's by the most promising young lady in Brooklyn, the daughter of an esteemed citizen, and lady who has already taken high so- cial rankl'
 ''That finishes the school commencements at one swoop," sigh the editor, gloomiIy, as the fair vision hoated out. ''Can't see how I made that blundeF about tho shadows and roses and friendship. Either I'm getting old or some of these girls have struck ont some thing original. Here, Swipes, tell the fore man to put this slush in the next tax sales SUD- plement,' and the editor felt in his hair for the cork, and wondered what had happened to his memory