the Western States, and years
have passed away since I heard of them; but along with many others they
were recalled to mind by my visit to the old School-House.

On the opposite side of the room is the range of desks which were
occupied by the girls, and I could almost fancy that I again saw the
same lively, restless group who filled those desks in the days of
long-ago. Again I saw the bright smile which was often hidden from the
searching eye of our teacher, behind the covers of the well-worn
spelling-book, again I saw the mischievous glances, and heard the
smothered laughter when the attention of the teacher was required in
some other part of the room. But these happy, careless days of childhood
are gone never to return. Were I inclined, I could trace the
after-history of most of the companions whom I used daily to meet in
this school-room. With many of them "life's history" is done, and they
sleep peacefully in the grave. Others have gone forth to the duties of
life; some far distant, others near their paternal homes. Many of the
number have been successful in life, and prospered in their
undertakings, while others have met with disappointment and misfortune.
It seemed somewhat singular to me that, as I stood alone in that room
(after the lapse of so many years), I could recollect, by name, each
companion I used to meet there; yet so it was, and it seemed but as
yesterday since we used daily to assemble there; and when I reflected
for a moment on the many changes to which I have been subjected since
that period I could hardly realize that I was one and the same. I
lingered long at the old School-House, for I expected never to behold it
again, having been informed that it was shortly to give place to a
building of a larger size, and of more modern structure.

ARTHUR SINCLAIR.

For several hours we had endured the jolting of the lumbering
stage-coach over a rough hilly road which led through a portion of the
State of New Hampshire; and, as the darkness of night gathered around
us, I, as well as my fellow-travellers, began to manifest impatience to
arrive at our stopping-place for the night; and we felt strongly
inclined to find fault with the slow motion of the tired horses, which
drew the heavily-loaded vehicle. Thinking it as well to know the worst
at once, I asked the driver "what time we might expect to reach our
destination for the night?" "It will be midnight at the least, perhaps
later," replied he. T