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."
13. "I'll write about the sunset, then," said she, and the pencil began to
move rapidly across the paper. In a few moments she said, "Mother, shall I
read you what I have written?" "No, not now," answered her mother; "I am
going into the dining room. You may sit and write until I return."
14. As Susie went on writing, she became very much interested in her
occupation, and for a time forgot all about the dreaded composition. She
wrote about the sunset clouds, the appearance of the distant hills, the
trees, the river, the garden with its gay flowers, and the birds flying
past the window.
15. Just as she had reached the bottom of the page, her mother came in.
"Well, Susie," said she, with a smile, "how does that composition come
on?" "Composition!" exclaimed Susie; "you told me not to think about my
composition, and I have not thought of it once; I have had such a nice
time writing about what I could see from the window."
16. Mrs. Smith took the paper and read aloud what Susie had written: "I am
sitting on a low seat at the bay window, one half of which is open, so
that I can smell the sweet flowers in the garden. The sky is all bright
with sunset; I can see purple, and pink, and golden. I do not believe that
anyone on earth has a paint box with such lovely colors in it."
17. "I can see one cloud, far above the rest, that looks like a ship
sailing in the blue sea. I should like to sail on a cloud, if it would not
make me dizzy. Now, while I have been writing, the clouds have changed in
color and form, but they are just as beautiful as they were before."
18. "The green hills are tipped with light, and look as if they were
wearing golden crowns. I can see a river a great way off, and it looks
quite still, although I know it is running as fast as it can to get to the
ocean."
19. "The birds are flying past the window to go home and take care of
their little ones. I am glad the birds are not afraid to live in our
garden, and to build nests in our trees."
20. "Our garden is full of flowers--pinks, lilies, and roses. Mother calls
this the month of roses. My birthday will come in a week, and we can have
all the flowers we wish for wreaths and bouquets."
21. "There, Susie," said Mrs. Smith, "that is a very nice composition,
indeed." "A composition!" exclaimed Susie, "is that a composition?" "Yes,
my dear, and a very good one, too," replied her mother. "When it hasn't
even a subject?"
22. "We can find one for it, and I do not doubt it will please your
teacher, as it does me. You see, my dear," continued her mother, "that it
is easy enough to write if you have anything interesting to write about."
23. The next morning Susie copied her composition very neatly, and started
to school with a happy heart, saying, as she gave her mother a kiss, "Just
think how funny it is, dear mother, that I should have written so long a
composition without knowing it."
DEFINITIONS.--Com-po-si'tion, that which is thought out and arranged, a
written or literary work. 3. Rum'pled, wrinkled, creased. Themes, subjects
or topics on which a person writes. 10. Re-quest', that which is asked.
14. Oc-cu-pa'tion, that which employs the time. 20. Bou-quets' (pro.
boo-kas'), bunches of flowers.
EXERCISES.--What is a composition? Why was Susie so troubled? Why could
she not write about "Time," "Temperance," or "Industry"? What did her
mother have her do? What did Susie write? Was it a composition? Did she
know, at the time, that it was? What fault did she find with it? Can you
give her composition a proper subject?