The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1875-02-04


"play school" Mary Bailey considered
herself, and in fact was generally con
sidered, natural born teacher She
had played school all alone by herself
many time on the wood-pile. Select
ing sticks of wood that were of sufficient
dimensions to stand alone, she would
place them before her, give them suitable
names, and discipline them to her hearts
content, till her skill in training the poor
senseless things became utterly exhaust
ed. SO Mary was unanimously elected
as the teacher pro tenn. At first she
found 1t almost impossible to make out
programme because of so many assist
ants, each ready with a suggestion, and
no two of them agreeing on the same
thing. At last one of the girls said,
ooh, Matte, let's call it composition
day, and this proposition being at once
accepted they soon came to order, and in
few minutes each one was thou hfully
considering suitable subject. 81 shall
write poetry" whispered Nelly Morse to
her next neighbor. "Auntie saws she
was natural-born poet if she had only
had chance, and am just like her
everybody says So"
Joe Barton heard this confidential
piece of information, and with a merry
twinkle In his eye concluded that he
would write poetry too
An hour passed, while busy fingers
wrote and erased alternately, and the
teacher called for their exercises. Lizzie
Wyman held up her hand as signal
that she was ready, and will give her
composition just as it was written, hoping
that my young readers may be able to
correct her misspelled words. Her sub
Ject was:
. LETTER TO MY ANT.
6 My DEAR ANT now take my pen in hand
to inform you that 1 hav got new dress, and
Willy has got the mesles and very bad cot I
found last years birds nest in the old maple
tree, and put some white beans in it for eggs
Johnnie said had better put some corn in it too
and then it would hatch out succotash but
don't believe one word of it. Old Bridget Lark
is dead, and we can't have her to wash for us
any more. My pen. is poor, my ink is pail, my
love to you shall never fale. l am writing on
my slate, but thought that would be a nice
verse to end off with. Mother cut cranberry
half in two and put it on her joint to cure her
corn. So no more at present. From your dear
nece. LIZZIE WY1AN"
Next came Nellie Morse's poetry. It
ran as follows:
Gas I was gazing on the water
saw man a-mixing morter;
The more he mixed the worse it grew;
He tapped his wings and away he flew;
He flew into the highest tree
And there he sat and gazed at me,
And as he gazed he roze in fight,
And this is all have to write"
Nellie sat down looking quite proud
OF her pOetical effort, and Joe Barton
slgnitied his readiness to read his compo-
sition. The teacher nodded assent, and
he read:
Z" poor old maid, and all forlorn,
Declared she a poet born,
And as I'd nothing else to do
thought I'd be poet too.
have dog, his name is Nose;
Ills wonderful how much he knows.
He,I chase the hogs the sheep and cows,
And scare them with his loud boW-wOws.
His kennel it is warm and good
And there he goes to eat his food,
He'll scratch and sneeze,
And bite his fieas,
And do it all with perfect ease"
The scholars all laughed at Joe's com
position excepting Nellie Morse, and she
GO made face at him the first time that
she caught him looking that way
81 wrote some rhymes, too" whis-
pered Susie Day, and she bl11shed like
primrose as she read
'Spring will soon come and the birds be singing,
The hawk, owl and blue-jay, the thrush and
pigeon;
Then on the trees behold the sweet robin,
Through branches and boughs you will see his
head bObbin'"
81 had to leave off the So in sbobbing'
to make it rhyme with robin she said
apologetically. No one thought of
laughing at Susie's poetry, for she was
the pet of the whole school.
Henry Wilson then read letter on
prayermeetings. Here it is:
Prayer-meetings are very solemn places. I
go every Wednesday night should not go SO
often, but my father is deacon and he makes
me go. l get very lonesome in prayer-meeting,
because it is always about the same thing and
know just what is coming every time. Uncle
Jacob Skinner is so deaf that he can't hear what
the others say, and so he generally falls asleep
and shores as loud as the big organ upstairs.
And Deacon Summers always tells how wicked
he is, though don't believe he ever stole an
apple in his life and when he gets most
through talking he asks the prayers of the
church that he may continue on, though I
should not want to continue on if l thought
was as wicked as he says he is. I can't think Of
much more to say about prayer-meetings, only
l fell asleep once and dreamed that Joe Barton
had me down. and was stuffing my mouth full
of sand, and fell off the seat and screamed
right out Help, helpr and old Mrs. Walton
came over where I was and asked me if I
wanted the prayers of the church. was awful
ashamed and SO was mother and she shook me
and said shouldn't go to prayer-meeting again
very soon and wish she had kept her word,
but she didn't. I cannot think of much more
to say on this subject, only found horseshoe
one night going home from prayer-meeting,
and gave it to old Bobbie Vain to keep the
witches away from his colt. He believes in
witches. So no more at present.
[ cannot tell you all that was written,
but John Wyman's composition cBme
last. He wrote one about his teacher,
as follows
g [ thought I would make up a compo-
sition about Miss Warren. Miss Warren
is nice teacher, and she wears a white
apron. We all learn good deal every
nd CHI 1>o.04 HC,>N -