Now "the clouds return after the rain."
It can never be with us again as once it was. For us the bell upon
the Old Red School-house calls in vain. We heed it not, we that
hearkened for it years ago. The living tide of youth flows toward
the school-house, and we are not of it. Never again shall we sit
at those old desks, whittled and carved with rude initials, and snap
our fingers, eager to tell the answer. Never again shall we
experience the thrill of pride when teacher praised us openly.
Never again shall we sit trembling while the principal, reads the
note, and then scowls at us fiercely with: "Take off your coat,
sir!" Ah, me! Never again, never again.
Well, who wants it to be that way again? We're men and women now.
We've duties and responsibilities. Who wants to be a child again?
Not I. Let me stick just at my present age for about a hundred
years, and I'll never utter a word of complaint.
THE SABBATH-SCHOOL
"We-a love the Sunday-school.
We-a love the Sunday-school.
(Girls) - So do I.
(Boys)-So do I.
(School) - We all love the Sunday-school."
SPARKLING DEWDROPS."
Some people believe that when General Conference assigned them to
the Committee on Hymn-Book Revision, power and authority were given
unto them to put a half-sole and a new heel on any and all poetry
that might look to them to be a little run over on one side.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57