Mr. Dodge said he remembered well the first time he addressed the students. He wondered how many had a purpose to go out and gather forty and fifty about them to do for those in the dark places what had been done for them by their teachers on this hill. He begged them to remember that unless they sought first the kingdom of Heaven and its righteousness all other knowledge would be vain. He said he must add a word about temperance, in which he knew they were so much interested. He could not believe any before him would ever reel through the streets a staggering drunkard, but their only safety lay in total abstinence. His words were so instructive and his benign face so inspiring that the very instant he took his seat the entire school burst spontaneously into the plantation melody: “Do you think I’ll make a soldier?” I might as easily describe an exquisite fragrance as these choruses of young voices from our 250 students, especially when singing this “spiritual,” whose words so touchingly portray the mingled hopes and fears of those deep, emotional natures. But, when in verses second and third they triumphantly sing: “We are climbing Jacob’s ladder, Every round goes higher, higher,” our hopes with theirs conquer our fears, and we sympathize with Mrs. Colquitt when she remarks: “I feel like making a speech to the school myself.” * * * * * ATLANTA TEACHER AT MACON. _Miss Julia A. Goodwin._ Everything here is new to us, and we enjoy the country-like city in its irregularity, broad streets, steep ascents and descents, its profusion of flowers, especially its roses. Then it is a real pleasure to compare the workings of the school and church with our own. We think we could not accomplish what these teachers do who are obliged to teach some of the time——two of them in one room, each conducting a recitation at one and the same time; but they work admirably together, without a particle of friction, and are a very happy family. Mrs. Lathrop’s sewing-school is also very interesting. As we walked into the room last Saturday morning, two old ladies, who were sewing just as busily as the children, arose from their seats and came across the room to greet us. One of them, whose sprightly manner and unwrinkled face would never have betokened her great age, said to us: “I am ninety-two years old if I live till Monday. I can’t do much, my hands are so stiff; but I thank the Lord that I can come here and sew a little;” and she showed us her patch-work squares with as evident satisfaction as any of the younger pupils. Ninety-two years old and learning to sew! Ah, thought I, most old ladies are through with their needle at that age. These sewing-schools must bring some comfort into many homes. * * * * * AFRICA. * * * * * MR. LADD’S JOURNAL.