XXXVII.  SUSIE’S COMPOSITION. (104)

1.  Susie Smith came home from school one day, and had no sooner entered the sitting room than she burst into tears.  “What is the matter, my dear child?” said her mother, drawing her daughter to her side and smiling.

2.  “O mother, matter enough,” sobbed Susie.  “All our class must bring in compositions to-morrow morning, and I never, never can write one.  We must write twelve lines at least, and I have written only a few words after trying nearly all the afternoon.  See what work I have made of it!”

3.  Mrs. Smith took the rumpled, tear-stained paper which Susie held in her hand, and glanced at what she had written.  In a careful hand she had tried to write upon three themes:  “Time,” “Temperance,” and “Industry.”

4.  “Time is short.  We should all improve our time.”  “Temperance is a very useful thing.”  “We should all be industrious if we wish to do anything in the world.”  These sentences were all she had written.

5.  “Now,” said Susie, “I can’t think of another word to say upon any of these subjects, and I know I shall have to go to school without a composition, for I won’t be so mean as to copy one from a book, or to ask you or papa to write one for me.”

6.  “That is right, my dear,” said her mother.  “You will be far happier with a poor composition, if it is all your own, than with a fine one written by somebody else.  But cheer up.  You have not begun right—­you have been trying to write upon subjects that you know nothing about.  Run into the garden and play.  I will call you in half an hour.”

7.  “But my composition,” began Susie.  “Don’t think about your composition while you are gone,” said Mrs. Smith, “but have as pleasant a time as you can.”

8.  It seemed but a few minutes to Susie before she heard her mother’s voice calling her.  She went into the house at once—­her hands full of sweet flowers, and her cheeks rosy with exercise.

9.  “Now, Susie,” said her mother, “I want you to sit by the window with this nice sheet of paper and a pencil, and write something about what you can see.”  “But my composition, mother,” said Susie; “when shall I begin that?” “Never mind your composition, my dear; do this to please me, and we will talk about that by and by.”

10.  Susie thought her mother’s request was a strange one; but she knew that she always had a good reason for everything she did:  so she took the paper and pencil, and sat by the window.

11.  “Do not talk to me at all,” said her mother.  “Look out of the window, and then write down your thoughts about everything you see.”

12.  Susie could not help laughing, it seemed such a funny thing to be doing.  As she looked out, she first saw the western sky and some bright, sunset clouds.  “O mother!” she exclaimed, “what a splendid sunset!” “Don’t talk,” said her mother, “but write.”