The Coconino weekly sun., 1895-10-17
A TRUE ENDEAVOR.
BY D. K. H. GOODALE.

BY D. K. H. GOODALE.
 "I sha'n't try any longer; it's nt ~use," said Frank, passionately.
 Albert only screwed up his mouth ir his characteristic fashion, as if he were having a struggle with himself not te speak too quickly; perhaps it was SO But after little space of silence on the part of both boys, he looked keen ly at Frank with those beautiful brown eyes of his and said said, quiet ly: 'I never can find any chance te stop trying"
 Frank laughed. a forced laugh that sounded as if it would be rather easie, to cry.
 Well, can; I've got good chance now"
 Albert shook his head, close-cropped and brown. "'Twon't work, Frank. Come along and have game of ball. you'll feel better tomorrow"
 The two boys went out together. They had been lingering in the school library; but Frank Alcott was too much out of sorts for wholesome sport, and he started home in Q mood half morose, half reckless
 He was a moody boy. that cannot be denied. With less self will and more application he would easily have led his class; for he was boy of fine nat ural abilities, the first to understand and the last to forget any new prin- ciple or important fact brought up in study. His mother was widow, only too anxious for his real good; perhaps that anxiety did him harm by making too much of both his faults and his virtues She was too openly distressed when anything went wrong, and on these occasions Frank was very apt to go from bad to worse.
 Albert Hardy was the oldest of eight z children, and, naturally, when he was not in charge of one or several of his brothers or sisters, he was left some what to himself He had, besides, an even, thoughtful disposition, slow to take or give offense. Frank Alcott was high spirited and sometimes over bearing, and made few friends among boys. While everybody liked Albert, therefore, Frank was both feared and disliked, but between themselves there was the best possible understanding.
 Albert trudged home with his books over his shoulder, not caring for the ball game, since Frank wouldn't play.
 "Poor fellowr' he said to himself T must contrive some way to help him out of these scrapes."
 You see that the ''scrape" was no un- usual occurrence.
 Miss Atwater was the history teach. "er. She was tall, dignifed person, in gold glasses, with light hair neatly crimped and parted above rather high, straight forehead. Exact and precise in all her ways, she liked exact statements and exact knowledge. Now Frank Alcott had a true love of the study of history; he had an unusual knowledge of the subject, too. for a boy of his age, as he had read con- siderable number of important his- torical works in the fine library left him by his father. But with vivid imagination and unusual power of gen. 'eralizing, he cared more for the large effects than for detail. He grasped firmly the real connections in the story of the nations and loved to dwell upon the growth and development of govern ments and institutions; but he was indifferent to the dates of battles, or of the birth and death of any promine nt man. Miss Atwater did not see that this interest made him her most promising scholar; she found him lacking, too often, in the precise information which she re- quired. and she did not hesitate to re- prove him severely for indolence and carelessness. Nor was this all He had habit of asking questions and bringing up subjects for discussion in class entirely outside the set lesson, though connected with it or naturally suggested by it. Miss Atwater detest- ed these unexpected questions, which she was not always prepared to an. swer, and condemned all discussion of principles as @ troublesome interrup- tion." It happened, therefore, that al- though history was his favorite study, and he was conscious of deeper and more thorough preparation than most members of the class, Frank was doing himself no credit in it, but, on the contrary. was repeatedly marked as having ia.l,d, and marked, as 1t ap- penrcL to him, most unjustly.
 There was irritation on both sides kAs II have said. his temper was by no mcaas perfect, and his vexation over some Of the rulings of his teacher was quite too manifest. Perhaps nothing anales it harder to do right than feel ing that you have done wrong and that the person whom you offended is making the very most of the offense. On the day in question Miss Atwater had repeated to the principal an i'm. .pudent remark of Frank which had