FRIDAY AFTERNOON

Of the wealth of facts and fancies

That our memories may recall,

The old school-day romances

Are the dearest, after all!—.

When some sweet thought revises

The half-forgotten tune

That opened “Exercises”

On “Friday Afternoon.”

We seem to hear the clicking

Of the pencil and the pen,

And the solemn, ceaseless ticking

Of the timepiece ticking then;

And we note the watchful master,

As he waves the warning rod,

With our own heart beating faster

Than the boy's who threw the wad.

Some little hand uplifted,

And the creaking of a shoe:—

A problem left unsifted

For the teacher's hand to do:

The murmured hum of learning —

And the flutter of a book;

The smell of something burning,

And the school's inquiring look.

The bashful boy in blushes;

And the girl, with glancing eyes,

Who hides her smiles, and hushes

The laugh about to rise,—

Then, with a quick invention,

Assumes a serious face,

To meet the words, “Attention!

Every scholar in his place!”

The opening song, page .—

Ah! dear old “Golden Wreath,”

You willed your sweets in plenty;

And some who look beneath

The leaves of Time will linger,

And loving tears will start,

As Fancy trails her finger

O'er the index of the heart.

“Good News from Home” — We hear it

Welling tremulous, yet clear

And holy as the spirit

Of the song we used to hear —

“Good news for me” ( A throbbing

And an aching melody ) —

“Has come across the” — ( sobbing,

Yea, and salty ) “dark blue sea!”

Or the paean “Scotland's burning!”

With its mighty surge and swell

Of chorus, still returning

To its universal yell —

Till we're almost glad to drop to

Something sad and full of pain —

And “Skip verse three,” and stop, too,

Ere our hearts are broke again.

Then “the big girls’” compositions,

With their doubt, and hope, and glow

Of heart and face,— conditions

Of “the big boys” — even so,—

When themes of “Spring,” and “Summer”

And of “Fall,” and “Winter-time”

Droop our heads and hold us dumber

Than the sleigh-bell's fancied chime.

Elocutionary science —

( Still in changeless infancy! ) —

With its “Cataline's Defiance,”

And “The Banner of the Free ":

Or, lured from Grandma's attic,

A ramshackle “rocker” there,

Adds a skreek of the dramatic

To the poet's “Old Arm-Chair.”

Or the “Speech of Logan” shifts us

From the pathos, to the fire;

And Tell ( with Gessler ) lifts us

Many noble notches higher.—

Till a youngster, far from sunny,

With sad eyes of watery blue,

Winds up with something “funny,”

Like “Cock-a-doodle-do!”

Then a dialogue — selected

For its realistic worth:—

The Cruel Boy detected

With a turtle turned to earth

Back downward; and, in pleading,

The Good Boy — strangely gay

At such a sad proceeding —

Says, “Turn him over, pray!”

So the exercises taper

Through gradations of delight

To the reading of “The Paper,”

Which is entertaining — quite!

For it goes ahead and mentions

“If a certain Mr. O.

Has serious intentions

That he ought to tell her so.”

It also “Asks permission

To intimate to‘ John’

The dubious condition

Of the ground he's standing on”;

And, dropping the suggestion

To “mind what he's about,”

It stuns him with the question:

“Does his mother know he's out?”

And among the contributions

To this “Academic Press”

Are “Versified Effusions”

By — “Our lady editress” —

Which fact is proudly stated

By the CHIEF of the concern,—

“Though the verse communicated

Bears the pen-name‘ Fanny Fern.’ "

When all has been recited,

And the teacher's bell is heard,

And visitors, invited,

Have dropped a kindly word,

A hush of holy feeling

Falls down upon us there,

As though the day were kneeling,

With the twilight for the prayer.

Midst the wealth of facts and fancies

That our memories may recall,

Thus the old school-day romances

Are the dearest, after all!—

When some sweet thought revises

The half-forgotten tune

That opened “Exercises,”

On “Friday Afternoon.”