The New School Director.

in this district , and we don't care if the sun is ninety-five millions miles off . Teach the boys that Andy Johnson was a better man than Columbus , and if I hear that you try to make them believe that Martin Van Bureu was elected President honestly , durned if you can ' t leave this district . We

had a feller teachin' here once who talked about Cromwell , Braddock , and a lot of other old Romans , and I worried the d ' rectors till they turned him off . You needn ' t teach the girls anything in particular ; they learn too fast anyhow . That

other teacher filled their heads full of Cleo——sombody , till they called the boys Antony and Ciesar . We want good , solid education . If you know how old Creeses made his money , tell the boys , but don ' t stuff their heads the full of the filthy habits

of algebra , or any other wild beast . The show business is not payin' this Summer , and we don ' t want our boys to be Barnums and Dan Rices . You might tell them how Ben Franklin caught thunder andlightniu ' in a bottle , for that is scientific , but tell them to keep away from walnut trees in a

thunder-storm . " " You ' ve no objection to me teaching a little hygiene ?" " I have sir , no new-fangled doctrines in this school , I tell you . No high gieue and no low giene , but if you waut to introduce

Robinson Crusoe into the school , I'll assist you . But no such studies as algebra and high gicne while I am director . After ' while you'll want to teach that the earth isn ' t half as big as the sun . Darn your highfalutin stuff !" The teacher has a hard row to hoe in Timothy ' s district , and he doesn't teach algebra either .

Review.

REVIEW .

THE WHITEHALL REVIEW , 125 , Fleet Street . This is a new weekly paper , and applicant for public patronage . It has begun very well ; and we think it likely to find a good deal of support . It is clearly and ably writtenand its poetry is much

, above the average . We quote a specimen ; THE GHOST OF LOVE . IN the still night the clock ' s slow sound And once the stirring of a fa'ding fire

Are all I hear . The midnight gathers round Me and my lone desire . A passing footstep in the street , A passing voice that bids a friend

good-bye , In some strange fashion with my fancies meet And mix with memory .

And as all thoughts and memories Have for their soul and centre only you , Even these passing midnight fantasies To that one goal are true . A foot that lightly passed my life , A careless voice that lightly said

, "farewell , " And thenceforth spoke no more , were yours , —and if You cared , I cannot tell .

Yet , let me rear , for love ' s dear sake , My air-built castle in the' clouds of thought , A harmless structure , which no shock can break By hopeless fancy wrought .

I am no more alone . Across the room I look and see you in your common place ; The firelight , in alternate glow and gloom Is playing on your face . Dear , loving Shadow ! Cross to were I sit And lay your hands in mineand let

, your eyes Search through my soul , and let my fancy flit Through flower-wov ' n phantasies .

Closer , dear Shadow ! On my breast Lay your fair head , and let my arms enfold You , and that precious world of pence and rest Priced at your heart of gold .

Closer , dear Shadow ! Through the years We two have travelled , and the end is nigh-How blest it were , beyond all words and tears , If thus we both could die !

Is love not proven ? Could we be Dearer and closer , or were joy more sweet , If you , dear Shade , in very deed were she , And love with love could meet ?