A few years passed, and by one of the unforeseen changes that occur in the lives of business men, we were obliged to relinquish our childhood home, and go forth to try the rougher usage of the world in a land of strangers.  Sad were the feelings that filled our young hearts, as we went forth from the dear place, with which was associated all the earliest recollections of life, and the endearing ideas of home.  The evening before our departure, we ascended the top of the highest hill that over-looked our little villa, accompanied by our young schoolmates, to watch the declining rays of the setting sun, and promised eternal friendship to each other.  It was Sabbath day—­a calm, delightful Sabbath day—­that was now closing upon us; and as the sun finished his journey across the horizon, and sank behind the far-off western hills, methinks the sacred tranquility that reigned around seemed to be whispering to the troubled spirit, “Peace, be still.”  But could we, with our youthful hearts weighed down by this great grief, could we heed the gentle whispers? surely not; and we felt that like our first parents, we were about to be driven from Paradise.  We sat conversing upon the past, and forming plans for the future,

  “Till twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad.”

Descending the hill we sought our homes, and early the following morning found us pursuing our way to a land of strangers, leaving behind us home, friends, and the burying place of our fathers, which we had ever looked upon as our last resting place.

While the waves of time have borne year after year away, each one replete with change, we have been tossing upon the stream till we again stand in the same place from which we then departed, and while the grief of that hour is fresh in the memory, we will again turn sadly away from the spot teeming with so many remembrances, and where were instilled the first principles of virtue and religion.  O, may these remain and grow “brighter and brighter unto the perfect day,” while all mutable things decay.  Dear old house, farewell; these eyes may never again behold you; these feet never again cross your threshold; but while reason remains, the memory of these haunts will be tenderly cherished.  And so we pass again from the spot with an aching heart, and leave it to the possession of strangers.

Chapter III.

The Old School House.

But while we yet linger on this sacred spot, will enter into the school house where our young footsteps first attempted to climb the hill of Science.  The outward appearance is the same.  A pretty one story and a half building, painted yellow with white trimmings, and a chocolate colored door, which is reached by two stone steps.