The Press., 1892-02-25
MARY ANN's VALENTINES.

"How tempus does fugit r as Bob Graham. used. to Say. I think those were the only two Latin words that held any place in his memory Why, it seems no longer ago than yesterday, butit is in reality ten long years since I stood by Mary Ahn's side in the sun ny corner by the old school house, that cold St. Valentines day.
 The dear old school-house I loved every inch of it, from the much carved desks to the we'll worn steps down which had had many tumble when both teps and walk were broad glare of ice.
 Yes, know what stately edifice has replaced it; and I know, too, that good judgment dictated it should be placed in, the valley; unless Spencer town were to continue to regard its physicians more than its children. Nev- ertheless, I can'tsheip feeling glad that in my girlhood sentiment had not yet given place to sense. " VI"
 have stood in that doorway many a a.wnters evening till I was almost frozen, just to see the ice-bound river and the snow-clad trees grow crimson under the suns last rays and if the climb was something to be dreaded in the summer with the thermometer roaming around in the sos, still the spring and autumn glories more than atoned. Just to stand each day with that billowing mass of color at ones feet 7; to catch the rivers silver sheen as it flung back its banks in glorious ly faithfu! reflection to the deep blue of the sky to drink in the air which was nowhere else so pure, was, in itself, as MT. Liscombe used to say, "a libe: ral education"
 "Oh, if I could only paint 1t P How often I have heard Mary Ann say that and I have always answered, "You will day. Your first picture will be the view from Academy Hill"
 But all this was after that first day ol which I am telling you-St. Valentines day ten years ago. Who was Mary Ann ! Why, Mary Ann Smithers, to be sure at least, so we all called her. We had heard that Smithers was not her real name, but then, she was old Miss Smither's niece, and lived with her aunt in the little brown cottage in the valley, and it was easier to call her by that name and so Mary Ann Smithers she had become. ps% ~@'
 Not poetical name, and Mary Ann was, by no means, poetical girl. If she had been, we should, doubtless, have taken some trouble to find out her last name, and should have soften ed the harshness of her first into some dainty diminutive-Marian, or Minnie.
 But Mary Ann, was hard fact, and we accepted her as such, name and all, True, she was our very best student, but what could brain and industry count for as against beauty and style!
 I can see just how she looked that day-tall, thin, ungainly; a face which her big black eyes made almost cadav- erous; a mass OF heavy black hair, and an air of general awkwardness, which took the special form of a painful con sciousness that her dress was too short, both as to skirt and sleeves. We girls had a well worn joke that all Miss Smither's spare time was spent in a vain attempt to catch up with Mary Ann's wrists and ankles. She might lengthen dress at night, but in the morning those unruly members would be found to have shot out an inch ahead. Only that day Lu Bennett had sent her an original valentine:
 "Oh, Mary Ann, my dear, pray,
 Why will you try to run away
 From sleeve and skirt so good?
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