SEPT. If 
FLOWERS. 
Up on the bill; 
Down In the valley; 
By streamlet and rill; 
In lane, street, or alley; 
Creeping or sill, 
Or climbing o'er bow’rs; 
Dear are ye still. 
Oh! beautllnl Flowers 
Friendships may fade. 
Ones brightly burning; 
Hopes be decay'd, 
Never returning; 
But ye deceive not. 
When Fortune lowers— 
Pain not and grieve not, 
Beautiful Flowers 
Sweet ev’ry part of ye. 
Fresh with the hours; 
Dear to the heart of me, 
Beautiful (flowers ! 
Fall ye to-day— 
Ye pass without sorrow : 
Blushing and gay. 
Budding forth, on the morrow. 
Ever self-springing, 
Bright from your birth ; 
Incense round flinging, 
Sweet stars of th' earth. 
Ever renewing— 
Blest with new powers— 
Life's pathway strewing, 
Beautiful Flowers ’ 
As droop ye to death, 
Ye sink without pain. 
And twine your own wreath 
But to blossom again. 
Sweet is the breath of ye, 
’Neath sun or show'rs; 
Hopeful the death of ye. 
Beautiful Flowers! 
[C. Stars Lancaster. 
©ur $ton»-@qU?r. 
MISS DEAN, 
BY J. C. B. 
I don’t suppose Miss Dean was half so bad 
as roy childhood's recollection pictures her, but 
I have never seen her since she left the school, 
and so have but one impression of her and her 
times. I admit the doubt at the beginning, 
you see, but must still describe her in all the 
unlovableness by which she was then surround¬ 
ed. She belonged to roy life only for a very 
little while— a few months.—and that, too, when 
I was but eight years old, too young for most 
children to cherish any abiding remembrance; 
yet I can never forgot her. Her name brings up 
a host of recollections, moat miserable where 
she alone reigns, but Tery pleasant when the 
girls came, too. For one of the truest of all 
truisms Is, that our schooldays are the happiest 
part of our lives—that is. If they arc at all happy. 
We take life then for Just what It seems. Our 
fathers and mdthers, the ministers and all 
grown-up people are very great,; but wo are 
happy, and do not dream of aspiring to their 
dignity. We are content, though we do not 
like to learn lessons. They are a bother; and 
we had father read our story books, or go visit¬ 
ing, and have a goqd time with the boys and 
girls. Yet there U a sort, of pleasure in being 
among “the first''—called ono of the good schol¬ 
ars ; and we would study “ to please fath¬ 
er," and so that we might “cut up" In 
school afterwards. For. from long expe¬ 
rience, I must say to all my young frieuds 
that there is a great deal of good to know- 
lng your lessons, though It Is a different 
sort from what your parents mean when MBS 
they tell vou, “My child, you know not Eg? 
what good you may gain for all your after 
life by studying now." 
The kind I refer to is the license to get 
into mischief; not liberty given, but tak- 
en, on the sure knowledge that there will SEpj 
be excuses found for you:—“She Is very 
roguish, but Is .tuck a good scholar T can- teg 
not scold her. If she were stupid, and 
plagued me both about lessons and con- 
duct, 1 should say more; and then it al- fit' 
ways makes me sad to see one of these 
smart children so quiet. 1 think they will Hft 
not fulfill the promise of their childhood, 
or else they are among t hose “ whom the 
gods love, who die young.” • 'A 
Besides having “our good times,” we IF 
have little to trouble us In the school-day ' ^ 
season. We hear the word Sorrow, but we M 
do not know what it means. Older people Q 
say it must surely come to us. It Is a part. * 
of the life that we live; anil sometimes we ** 
have a dim, misty notion of what it is like 
when we see some one in mourning who ^ 
grieves for the dead ; but It Is nothing dis¬ 
tinct. The world is bright to us now, and 
we will keep the brightness even in antici¬ 
pation. If pain does come, we will not think 
of it beforebaud. 
We do not worry ourselves either about what 
we must do In the world. Most everyone does 
something ; but we are taken care of now, and 
when the time comes we suppose our work will 
be before us. We know nothing of the sicken¬ 
ing uncertainty as to what Is best, what we are 
fitted for, and less of the weary striving, with¬ 
out encouragement, that makes ua doubt every¬ 
thing. No; we were very merry in Mias Dean’s 
day, even with the rod of her terror hanging 
over us. For she was terrific to every scholar 
who drew near her. In the first place her ap¬ 
pearance Inspired awe, and when you came to 
know her the awfulness increased. She was a 
“Yankee schoolmarm,’’ answering to all the 
most exaggerated ideas of the term. She was 
tall, spare and angular; her dress always fitting 
tight, showed every prominent bone, and was 
my special abhorrence. It was of a dull, brown 
shade, covered with little dark figures, and fas- 
It was a perfect marvel to me^how she’could ! 
work so hard without getting tired ; hut It 1 
seemed to be her meat and drink to follow out 
the maxim of Solomon, “ Spare the rod and 
spoil the child." I was so small for my age that 
I think. In her secret heart, she bad some com¬ 
passion for me, as I was not called up very often, 
though It was almost equal grief to see m y 
__ _ _ NANTUCKET, FROM TUB CHURCH TOWER, 
tened at the throat with a plain linen collar, as nda move ah 
if to protest affalnst every attempt, at ornameDt. always on the v 
That she utterly abjured, as was seen in the peoted moment 
plain, stiff way she plastered her hair round her culated from m 
face; beginning at a point In the middle of her and often foun< 
forehead like the steeple of a meeting house, it throe, 
widened near the base aud went back of her Miss Dean so 
ears in a simple, straight lino, and was gathered and at last l wa 
in a knot at the back. the black book 
Her forehead was high of course, with small row to many a i 
gray—or green—eyes peering out underneath, the door, stand 
whose expression seldom changed—fixed nnd marnl the view 
cold, oven In moments of excitement. The about me, as I * 
only way we could guess at any unusual etno- the result of m 
tlon was by the gentle nodding of the boh at as the result, in 
the Oaok of her head and the firmer compres- It a good thing, 
slon of the lips. These were very thin—a sure for I coukl Imp 
sign of temper, I have heard ; but we never saw to weak spirit 
Miss Dean ruffled In appearance by the moat meet, the rod. 
untoward event. Her foot, too, was a most re- Miss Dean s 
markable part of her tout ensemble , for it always principal busln 
came down with a decisive click, as If to warn liberation and i 
allof hersolerlghttothegroundshewalkodon. sinn on my ml 
I was among the younger scholars, yet in V cm- all, marshalled 
inon with the rest, I secretly wondered over her eye scanning i 
constant aud enduring patience In using the boldest first, so 
rod. In those days though, it was a good-sized rest should he 
wooden ferule, which I think must have hurt came. Then t 
much more than the birch rods wo hoar of from “ without dlst 
our grandmothers. MORRIS used 
Our seutB were arranged in rows, with desks turned to his i 
In front of each, and two scholars sat together; admonition, t I 
and everyoneof us unfortunate wights had his had really coi 
or her number, fatal to his peace. We were not bold myself, bi 
called up for punishment by our names, but by cider ones did 
our secret number, and then only was our title have her sent n 
made known to us. It used to make me thing One day of h 
nds move slowly along'to their fate. I was 
always on the verge of despair till the long-ex¬ 
pected moment came, for I had somehow cal¬ 
culated from my seat and her hook who I was, 
and often found myself within one of the fatal 
three. 
Miss Dean sometimes loft ua alone at recess, 
and at last l waxed so bold t would peep Into 
the black book regularly and bring joy or sor¬ 
row to many a waiting heart. One girl watched 
the door, standing by the window so as to com¬ 
mand the view outside, while the rest clustered 
about me, as I stood on tiptoe and announced 
the result of my search—ominous or favorable, 
as the result might be. f have always thought 
It a good thing. I found out about the book, 
for I coukl impart a little cmirage beforehand 
to weak spirits, when they found they must 
meet, the rod. 
Miss Dean always entered upon this, the 
prluclpal business of the day, with sc much de¬ 
liberation and earnest thought, that the Impres¬ 
sion on my mind Is Indelible, r can see them 
all, marshalled in front of her desk, her keen 
eye scanning every face, as if to choose the 
boldest first, so that the little fortitude of the 
rest should be entirely gone before their turn 
came. Then the blows fell thick and heavy, 
“ without distinction of age or sex," DiOk 
Morris used to say, and nsTeacb scholar re¬ 
turned to his seat with a few stern words of 
admonition, I felt almost as If the day nf doom 
had really come. 1 would not have been so 
bold myself, but I wondered why some of the 
elder ones did not rebel, get up a protest, and 
have her sent away, or else leave themselves. 
One day of her reign I remember particularly. 
JT 
*- 
l 
THE ARRIVAL. —NANTUCKET WHARF 
of the Inquisition and secret tribunals, where 
people wore marked In some way known only 
to the great powers that be and remained in 
blissful ignorance of their other nanje and des¬ 
tiny till they were hunted down. 
Miss Dean kept all her marks herself, and for 
Actual offense, something that 
i was known, was committed, and 
~~ then the punishment was even 
more severe than usual. Generally, we 
never knew “what, the whipping was 
for." But this time the glaring misde¬ 
meanor was this:—Several of the large 
girls went out of the yard to find something; 
they had not asked permission and came in 
after the bell bad rnog, about a minute late. 
Then the ruler came down like a thunderbolt 
of wrath, though the Impassable face remained 
the same. Nothing was said, but I knew the 
what they ware given we never knew ; but after • storm in many homes was brewing silently, and 
every recess she held a reception on her plat¬ 
form and it was always a very warm one, and 
all were treated about al ke. Every one who 
received three marks before recess or three 
afterwards, was Invited up to her desk with 
great ceremony, and happy they who escaped 
an invitation 1 
at the end of the term Miss Dean went away. 
It Is rather strange I cannot remember what 
she was like, except as associated with the rod ; 
but I only saw her in school hours, and then she 
thought it her duty to “ have discipline.” 
My conscience has always reproached me that 
I didn’t take one more punlsbme.it from her 
than I had, but my moral courage failed me. 
This was the way of it. My sister waa three 
years older than I and rather liked to brave 
Mias Dean when she could escape without se¬ 
rious consequences. So one day she took my 
doll’s clothes to school to make, and while en¬ 
gaged In her work she passed an apron under 
the desk for mo to sew on. We seemed to be 
going on finely, as Nellie’s desk bid her, 
she thought; and she sat, In front of me, 
so I could not lie seen. But at a moat un¬ 
lucky moment the spool rolled out on the 
floor, with the noise of a cannon ball, it 
seemed to me. Miss Dean paused, and 
then said In measured tones, “The young 
lady who owns that spool can bring it to 
me, and whatever she has besides.” 
So Nell nnd her clothes walked up to 
the desk. She was told to “ remain after 
school." The hour beforo the clcsi seem¬ 
ed an eternity to roc, and when it was time 
to go, 1 leaned over aud asked Nell if I 
should say, “ I was sewing too?” “No,” 
she said, “ you must not. sav a Word about 
it." My heart bounded, though I went out 
very sadly to wait, for her. It scorned a great 
deal worse to be kept alone to receive the 
reward of her off once, with no sympathiz¬ 
ing friends near to sustain her, though I 
knew Nell would not care us I should. 
Pretty soon she came out very angry, 
hut showed her haud with a martyr-like 
air. I felt I ought to have had part of the 
pain as long as I was guilty of the same 
act; but Nell explained It In a different 
yvny. She Raid there was no “ deserving" 
about. It. “ I f It. had been any one else but 
that hateful Miss Dean, we should uot 
even have bad a scolding;" and, as she 
■* gave roe the apron, “ ’twould have been 
’ - twice as bad for me to be whipped too.” 
I was a little comforted by this, but have felt 
ever since It was cowardly not to share Nkli.ie’s 
disgrace. 
We went home, a bitter company, and I bad 
rather have met a lion and bear in the way than 
Miss Dean ; but our hearts were soon gladdened 
by the news of her speedy departure. Perhaps 
we tried her and I am harsh; but I only put 
down facts from memory. No one said “Good¬ 
bye," except one boy, who had had more con¬ 
dign punishment than any ono, and ho put his 
arm round her nock and kissed her. 1 don't 
think she was softened at all, and I knew we 
were much provoked with him. I have heard 
since that Miss Dean is married. 1 have always 
felt inclined to pity her children, but maybe 
they don't need It; and though Miss Dean was 
a great trial to us, sho may have changed Into a 
loving mother Bow, tender aa she was hard¬ 
hearted before. I suppose she thought hers was 
the right way “ to keep school." 
-♦♦♦- 
A UNIQUE GOLDEN WEDDING. 
The Boston Journal, In describing the golden 
wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Farnsworth In 
the Roxotiry District, say6 the Invitations (lim¬ 
ited to 150) wero printed on heavy gold leaf and 
framed In glass passepartouts. They read as 
follows : 
w 1826—iAugust 23d 1S76. Walter Farnsworth 
(cut of two IihiiiIh grasped), Elizabeth Young. 
Quietly and without lading them know any¬ 
thing about It, you are permitted to offer in 
prose, rhyme or windmill poetry some effusion 
In honor of the golden anniversary of t he mar- 
ago‘*f Wattle Fa roB wurth with Lizzie Young. 
All oT which should bo H,ent under cover 
to William Gmersou B iker (who takes the 
whole responsibility of this audacious no- 
9^. tier), 13 West street,, Boston, In order not 
■ to Invade upon the mirjtrise intended from 
four to eight o’clock, Monday evening, 
August. 22,1876, at which time those whose 
convenience will permit, may take ad van- 
SS9 tageoftbla golden opportunity to call at 
3a 61 Mount, Pleasant avenue and grasp the 
.wi hands swapped lifty years ago. As braiu 
gaSg. effusion , or trifling jeu el'eeprit souvenirs 
only are not permii table,a. suitable detec- 
~ tive force will be stationed at Mount Pieas- 
—ant home to send batik all nuggets of gold 
or other tliun gold quarter of u dollar gifts. 
■»*»' “ Nota Bene—Please do not tell-tale this 
so that our gold-sealed friends shall bear 
of it. 
fy “ it. a. v. p." 
With each invitation was also sent a blue 
Kjjrj and gold box containing a wine glass with 
gp guidon sherry hermetically sealed lu its 
• 5,1 dtuble shell side, with this couplet In- 
jaK scribed lo gold leaf:—" Lizzie and Walter, 
may they continno as free from broils aud 
stows as they have ever been since she 
first wore her bridal shoes." The floral 
devices were numerous and quaint, con¬ 
sisting of circlets, crescents, crowns, &o., 
and several cones, from three to four feet high, 
of golden flowers. The large marriage hell, three 
feet in diameter, was covered with golden rod, 
maygnld and other created flowers. Thecomicai 
offerings from Uidge lllll Farms consisted of 
three columns, each four feet high, marked 
“ Choice Roots from Old Mother Earth- Flow¬ 
ers from Us surface and Fruits which grow be¬ 
tween It and Heaven." The first commenced 
with rows of prize quality Early Bose potatoes, 
up to the full corn In the ear; turnips with, dot¬ 
ted eyes and Bmooih and with the oleurier tube 
root stauding out as the long nose, &e., sur¬ 
mounted by an immense cabbage head, marked 
lu letters of gold, “Can this B beet?" rhe hair 
Indicated by tbo loDg string beans marked, 
“ Nofc-a-bene." Outlie cabbage stood a comi¬ 
cal figure composed of corn and Its silk; sweet 
potatoes for legs and arms; a blood beet for 
bead; gold drops for eye pupils, &c. The sec¬ 
ond column waa composed of gcld-named flow- 
_9h! 
