The Monticellonian., 1895-04-26

have u8t been with you thls ses sion, my thoughts of you have
 been of the most pathetic nature Many, many times do l call t' memory those by-gone days. Th' sound of the old time wo1n bell cannot quite be forgotten. A long as memory holds seat il this confused and distracted globe nothing can ever blight or mar the fond recollection of those hap py days. The intirmitics of old age may cause many fond recol- | lections to be forgotten but this one will stand like rock in the deep sen. No combination of words, however skilltully arrang- ed, can tell of that good and no- ble school.
 It would be the fruition of my most bIisstul hope to spend few more hours there, and to behold myself once more walking over the old familiar school grounds, viewing the places 1 have so often frequeuted. The sight ot each well known place would bring to me augmented interest.
 Often under those grand old oaks whose great outstretched boughs have so long furnished to the stud ent magnificent shade, 1 see my sell and others sitting, now and then soft breeze, turning their limbs from side to side. allowing the pure sunlight to fall upon the tender plants below. Looking westward to the ball ground, me- thinks 1 see teachers to whom we should all be so grateful, hurrying from base te base, sometimes in q great rush, measuring their length upon the ground. Then noisy school girls clap their hands and shout fer all to come and witness the scene.
 To-day, amid the beauty and sweet smell of early spring blos- soms, whose fragrance make earth n fairyland, 1 am wholly carried back to tue days when l sat in your midst. Myriads of little winged creatures whose vocal or gans seem to be of an untiring na- ture, have formed quite an inter esting band ill the rich perfumed air. The drum isn't lacking, for the old humble bee has returned with his strong voice.
 The time that spent with you all seems to have heen only sleep. Certainly I can see every thing to-day just as l saw it nine months ago. However hope that my absence there has not caused vancant seat in the school room, bat that q purer and noblcr student has long since talk en my place.
 Many who are there now, dig ging in the soil of education, may be far, far away when another ses- sion rolls around. Time as it goes on carries us from place to place, like the great waters which goes from ocean to ocean, from the placid lakes to the restless guilt until at last we arrive at our journeys end. Looking back ward for the last time we view the work we have done. Can we look upon it with pride or with shame? Were we fofled in our schemes or did we never resolve to do anything? There are many who to-day sleep beneath the cold sod, who had determined on Il prosperous course, but life's last ebb flowed too soon, too soon to execute their plans.
 The writer has not been in school this year hut have done equally as much work us if l had been in the school room. Last September l resolved to spend the greater portion of my time in the library, since which tune have known no other companion. My school books are continually be fore my eyes. Often find my self absorbed in Charles Dickens, works and other books of favorite