The Toledo chronicle. [volume] (Toledo, Tama County, Iowa) 1873-1924, 1874-07-09
JACKS ATTEMPTS At COMPOSITION

"SAY, Allie, help me about my compo-
sition, will your" pleaded Jack, making
Il Clumsy grab at his sister, who sat read
was intended for sort of caress; but in
stead of propitiating Miss Allie, who was
very proper young lady, it had the eff
feet to discompose her very much.
Jack Smith," she exclaimed, sitting
bolt upright and jerking her elbows,
you've pulled my hair down, and broken
my comb, and lost my place, and tum
bled my ruff, and--and-you act like a
bear,'
With this slight relief to her feelings
Alice repaired her offended dignity as
well as she could and settled down to her
book again.
Jack stood minute with a rueful
countenance, and then ventured to repeat
his appeal.
"Say, Allie, I've got to write my essay
and hand it in Monday morning Help a
fellow, can't you? Come"
AS if kept your ideas! Help your
self with your essay! And | think you
had better take Good Manners for your
subject, and study it well!''
II won't" said Jack, now thoroughly
on the defensive. Il won't have any
such cut-and dried stuff If you don't
want to help me you needn't. l guess l
can get along without YOU
Spurred by his sisters sarcasm and
irritated by her curt refusal, Jack sum
moncd all his pride and spunk and de-
tcrmined to make his last remark good at
once.
He strobe off to the farther corner of
the room, opened his fathers secretary
and sat down to write.
"Papa'll scold if you use his pens, y
murmured Alice, glancing languidly up
from her book.
Jack gave scornful snort and seized
quill. He spread the biggest fool's-cap
sheet he could find, and then took up ink
enough to write half-a-dozen lines-and
make two great blots besides
LES see," quoth he to himself. Lies
see. War? No, you don't, sir! Joe
Jones whipped me the last time we
played war. amt going to write about
war. School? That's too old. I've had
one or two compositions about school
already. Spring? No, that's too tame. "
Jack scratched his head
Suddenly wood-cut protruding from
under pile of papers caught hisveye
He pulled it out and unfolded COPY of
the New York Thunder-Chp. All the
eight sides OF that marvellous paper were
covered with pictures and stories calcu-
lated to make boys blood tingle
For several evenings past Jack had
been regaling himself (rather on the sly)
with the adventures Of "Jay -hawker Bill, /"
whose visage glared from the page he
held. 1t struck him suddenly that lie
might write story. Stories were so easy
to write, and everybody liked to read 'em.
He would write something full of hair
breadth escapes, like the adventures of
"Jay-hawker Bill" Oh, that would. be
just splendid
He began to rack his brain for a
"plot" But the plot did not come so
easy, after all He searched slyly through
the Thunder-Clap for hints. Surely the
brilliant minds who contributed to those
wonderful pages ought to furnish him a
spare thought or two.
At length he caught an idea that he
thought would do to begin with, and
plunging his quill in the inkstand, ami
spreading his elbows at right angles, he
went vigorously to work. Whenever his
inspiration seemed about to collapse he
stole glance at Jay-hawker Bill" Half
an hour passed, and Jack was allah.
sorbed in his story. Suddenly forget
ting his late repulse) he called out
II say, Allie, Allie! What's If you
please in French?"
"S'H Uous ploit," murmured Alice. knit
ting her brows.
ISiloer-plate," echoed Jack, transfix
ing the precious phrase with his pen. He
had heroine in his story, and he wanted
to make her talk some French. After a
short silence, he called again
"Allie, what's yesr'
"Jack Smith, I'll ask mamma to send
you out if you interrupt me one more
time! Yes is oui. There, now, don't you
ask me another thing!"
"Wee," wrote Jack, and on he went
like locomotive, leaving the storm be-
hind him.
There was peace in the Smith sitting
room for twenty minutes. At the end
of that time the juvenile novelist wanted
some more French. Not daring to dis.
turb Alice now, he tiptoed to the book.
shelves, silently consulted her " Fas.
quelle," and returned so charged With
important words that he stumbled ever q
stool and forgot how to spell theIk
"A man on horse!'' mutteI6d Jack
withering under . sisterj glance
Pshaw! cant remember, Id ! CAM
go and look again. 1t W les see--