FROM A NEW ENGLAND HILLSIDE. 153 



ter the hot air. Across the green of the 

 valley the distant hills and mountains rise 

 through the dusty haze, tier beyond tier, 

 clearly marked, like giant wave lines on a 

 mighty sea, disappearing gradually toward 

 the horizon. Behind the cloister, stretched 

 upon the fresh green grass under broad 

 spread ing trees on westward sloping ground, 

 clad in white, lie maidens exchanging 

 maidenly confidences. The term is draw 

 ing to an end. The day of parting comes 

 on apace. For many, the school days are 

 ending, and closely knit friendships which 

 years have strengthened must now be sub 

 jected to the test of separation, of new as 

 sociations, of widening occupations, duties, 

 pleasures. The &quot; curtain raiser &quot; has been 

 played out ; the curtain is about to fall ; 

 then comes the prompter s bell, and it is 

 rung up again for the drama: what shall 

 this be ? Ah ! that for all there could be 

 something more of the rural simplicity, the 

 grateful repose of this favoured spot, than 

 our great cities with their feverish life 

 afford for many. May the heart burnings 

 be few, and while the recollections remain 

 always tender, may there not be intense 

 and bitter longing for that which cannot 

 return, for &quot;the days that are no more.&quot; 



