St. Paul daily globe., 1889-04-06
FRED'S PRIZE,
The Story Of a Contest With
Surprising Results.
Philadelphia Times.

THliduel pnld 11meS.
Broad noon, one day, Fred Eustis
marched up to lamp post Ietter-box,
and deposited therein bulky envelope,
which anyone with the least literary eX-
perience might have surmised contained
a manuscript-an MS. OF MSS. as young
writer's fondly put it in their private
epistles to the editor.
Such a surmise as regarded the con-
tents of Fred's deposit in the mail would
have been perfectly correct. 1t did
contain manuscript; and Fred didn't
care who knew it-quite to the contrary.
lie was accompanied by two or three
OF his schoolmateS, who, from the init
mate knowledge they appeared to pos
sess of the affair. and the interest they
took in it, might have been his literary
partners. But, as a matter of fact, there
was not single person in all Fred
EuStlS' somewhat extensive circle of
acquaintances who hadn't heard from
his lips the full details of his entrance
into the competition for the prize of $40
offered by the Golden GoOseberry for
the best patriotic essay, in verse, writ
ten by boy or girl under sixteen years
of age. -
Not few of these persons had even
heard portions of the poem read. 1t
was an eulogy of Washington, begin
ming with an account of how the writer
had celebrated the 22d of February.
then proceeding to the reflections and
historical "reminiscences suggested
thereby, and ending with a glowing
passage about the Inauguration of the
first president of the United States,
appropos of the approaching centen-
NAL celebration.
To those competent to judge this eff
fort proved Fred to be the possessor of
abilities by no means despicable; yet
there were few who gave him word
OF decided encouragement.
The trouble with our young friend
was an overconfident spirit, which led
him to boast of literary successes and
triumphs before he had achieved them,
and when, as usually happened, these
ventures turned out dead failures a
great deal of unnecessary modification
ensued.
''My son." his father had said to him
on one of these occasions, "never men,
ton your scrlbbling fad again until you
can speak in the past tense of some prize
OF honor won, or show something of
yours in print"
That same afternoon the indomitable
lad had set to work upon his prize essay.
Now it was completed. polished.
copied off and ready to he sent for judg-
ment of the editorial czar who presided
over the literary deStinieS of the Golden
Gooseberry. Fred's spirits rose rapidly,
and his hump of self-esteem once more
developed to abnormal proportions. His
companions shared, or at least pretend
ed to share, his buOyant expectations.
II don't see how you ever made up
such poem,' said one, after the
bulging envelope had taken its fate
full dive into the letter box.
Its as good as anything Longfellow
ever wrote when he was your age" de-
clared the second.
"And it's just as good as sure of the
prize" roundly asserted the third.
"Well,'' replied Fred, complacently,
''if it don't turn out a winner it will
prove what Pve often suspected-that
editors have their favorites and show
partiality. But if / get that $40 prize,
boys, We'll have jolly good time, that's
all. Tm going to save half Of it and
spend the other five.''
Counting your chickens again be-
fore they're hatched, eh?" was the
quiet remark of Fred's cousin, Louise
Wood. at whose house he stopped on
his way home to air his prospective tri-
umph.
Louise was demure, studious, sensi-
bic girl, and the president of an eight
O'Clock club chapter. That, however,
did not prevent her cousin from putting
on literary airs before her.
''That's all right, LOU" he answered,
loftily. ''Just you wait until a week
from next Saturday, when the result of
the competition is published. Then
you will see what a fellow like me is
able to do when the inspiration seizes
him.
The week from next Saturday"
came around-as slowly as such event
full dates usually do come to eXpectant
watchers of the calendar.
For once in his life Frederick Eustis
showed signs of nervousness. He left
home alone quite early in the morning.
and lurked about the publication Office
of the Golden Gooseberry until the
paper was out and Oh sale.
Purchasing a copy he clutched it
desperately. and, wadding it I'D without
so much as glancing at it, darted out
and turned furtively down side street.
Sitting on doorstep he unfOlded the
paper, tore open the leaves, and with
the air of one about to make leap for
life or death, ran his eye over the pages
The very first headlines that met his
eye were as follows:
OUR PRIZE POEMS!
PATRIOTIC TRIBUTES BY YOUNG
AMERICANS TO THE FATHER OF HIS
COUNTRY.
Still more conspicuous, to the eager
eyes of Fred, were half-a-dOZen StanZas
OF strangely familiar appearance, down
towards the middle of the column, and
bearing this heading:
OUR FIRST PRESIDENT.