Meadow daisies are massed in profusion around altar and platform; a paper canoe covered with daisies is suspended above--its paddle bearing the word “Knowledge.” The class motto (translated)--“The love of knowledge impels us”--is outlined on the wall. Roses, roses, everywhere. How the breath of June roses always brings up that scene when I stood on the platform of the Methodist church that night in June and looked down upon a sea of faces! Behind me, on the platform, sat the dear teachers, doubly dear now that we were to go from under their tuition; below me, close at hand, were the classmates, so soon to “trust their parting feet to separate ways.” What a flood of thoughts rushed through me as, standing there, in a voice that I did not know, so loud and clear it rang (as though apart from myself), I delivered the class valedictory! Looking down to our pew I saw Father and Mother beaming with pride and joy; saw my sister and all the friends and neighbours of our little village. How the expressions and the various faces stand out even to-day! But am I dreaming? Is it really true? Yes, there sits my own grandfather, dressed in unaccustomed black clothes, with a rapt expression on his dear old face, the unheeded tears streaming down his cheeks. The surprise and delight at seeing him there is one of the keenest of my girlhood’s happy recollections. “Now, Eugenia!” my beloved teacher had encouragingly whispered when I had passed him on the way to the centre of the platform; and afterward, “I didn’t know you could do it,” he said exultantly, grasping my hand. Then I knew I had done well. In school, as a rule, I had trembled and mumbled when reading my essays; and although we had been drilled for this momentous occasion, I had sadly faltered at rehearsals, and I knew that “Prof.” had, as I had, grave misgivings as to my ability to get through with it at all creditably. “You were inspired,” said an admiring classmate extravagantly; “we could hardly believe our eyes and ears!” My essay, called “Sailing,” portrayed allegorically the voyage of school life. By cables our little boats were fastened to a large ship on which was the Captain who guided our course near home and foreign shores, where we learned of the earth and the air, the rocks and the reefs, and the mysteries of the deep; we studied the stars overhead, the banks along the shores, the _fauna_ and _flora_, as well as the peoples of the various climes--their language and literature. And this is how my wonderful essay ended, as dropping the allegory, I addressed the class: