220 STATE POMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



grant bloom. The farm-houses nestled among green foliage and clustering 

 vines, and I could almost scent the fragrance of the roses, which I knew would 

 fill the air with perfume in the coming June. 



'Wq left our level road, and after crossing a brook which wound like a silver 

 ribbon among the meadow grasses of the valley, began to ascend a hill. 



On the height was situated a building in a lot destitute of trees or shrubs. 



And then I knew that we had reached our destination, for there was the 

 sclwol-liouse. The grounds always look just so, I said to myself. There is 

 the same clay soil, the same broken down fence posts, the same broken down 

 steps, scattered wood, and untidy appearance everywhere. Just as the sun 

 always shines in at the east windows each forenoon, and pours in at the south 

 door in the middle of the day, and for change beats in remorsely at the west 

 windows until four o'clock. 



To be sure, the view is a beautiful one, and I looked down the valley, where 

 each farm-house seemed so sheltered and cool in the distance. I could almost 

 feel the grateful shade of their wide vine-covered piazzas looking toward the 

 wells with their dripping buckets. How the children must love to leave their 

 homes on summer mornings, I said, and climb this stony hill, when the ther- 

 mometer reaches up in the nineties. 



And I thought with a faint sigh of relief, how if I were stationed there, I 

 would wisely teach the geography of the cold regions in the summer-time, lin- 

 gering among icebergs and glaciers, and frozen oceans, until frost came, and 

 then warm myself by the tropics in January. 



I prepared to descend from the carriage. ^"No," my guide said, ''this is 

 the town-house, in the center of the township. I only brought you here to 

 see the view from this hill. Do you think the people living in those pleasant 

 homes yonder, would send their children to pass half of their waking hours in 

 a place so utterly devoid of beauty as this?'^ 



"No," I answered faintlv, ''I never thous^ht such an inhuman thins:." 



''Do you think those parents would be happy in their homes, surrounded by 

 all that makes home life beautiful and comfortable if they thought their chil- 

 dren were not enjoying the same ?" 



"No," I again said, "I am sure they would not." 



"Would parents, who desire that the memories of childhood should be 

 among the pleasantest, brightest of life, dare to have their children grow up 

 among unpleasant surroundings?" 



" Al?, wo/" I said emphatically, " never. ^^ 



With an indignant look at me because of my mistake, my guide turned the 

 horse's head and slowly descended the hill up which we had just come, saying, 

 "Now, I will show you the school house." 



We turned aside from the well beaten road and followed the windings of the 

 creek a few rods and came to a pretty building set down in a large yard deco- 

 rated with beautiful trees, and enclosed by an ornamental fence. I gave but 

 a hasty glance at the outside surroundings, but my impression was a pleasant 

 one. 



The whole seemed like the exterior of a cozy home-like dwelling. I caught 

 glimpses of vine-covered trellises and rustic seats under the trees, of an emer- 

 ald lawn, and a play-ground beyond. 



At the east and south my guide directed my attention to two well-kept flower 

 beds, which were already fragrant with early spring blooms, among which I 

 noticed the children's favorite pansies, while many tender little annuals gave 

 promise of rare beauty and brightness for the coming days. I noticed the 



