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home. All the way home Ney scolded about my talking
all the time. When weTeached home mama said, "Where
are your fish?" "We didn't get any," we said. And
then mother laughed. Cora Jones,
Sixth Grade. Breckenridge, Minn.
MOUSE, NOT DEMON.
(High School Credit.)
Imagine if you can two girls calmly endeavoring
to read Milton's "Paradise Lost," being aroused from
our deep reveries by the most unearthly yells that ever
set one's hair on end, mingled with the falling and crash
ing of what sounded like china but as yet we were un
able to remember if we were still with the demons or
had returned to earth. As the screams subsided we
rushed to the scene of action, which was the pantry, and
found mother ruefully surveying the broken dishes.
"What is the matter!" we both cried out. "Oh!" said
mother, in an effort to appear unconcerned, I just saw
a mouse." The laughter which followed this declaration
I really believe shook the house. "Oh! was that all?
thought it was a bear," we finally managed to say, with
other exclamations sueh as "Why didn't you scream,
mother!" "Say, mother, that darling little mouse must
have enjoyed the noise." "Yes," she said, "and I
shouldn't wonder if he is here yet." That remark made
us a little uneasy, for we slowly edged toward the door,
but not wishing to act uneasy we made more
brave remarks, even saying, "Pooh! Why, moth- ^g
er, I am smaller than you and I am not afraid of
It surely was a case of pride before a fall,
for just then mother moved a jar and like a
streak came the mouse straight toward us. Brave
girls, where are they! One upon a chair holding
up her skirts and the other vainly trying to scale
the table was dancing from one foot to the other,
keeping time to the squeals which pierced the air.
Then mother laughed. Emma Gehring,
Tenth Grade. Larimore, N. D.
A DRIVE TO DAKOTA.
(High School Credit.)
I was about four years old one summer, when
ene of my aunts, who lived in South Dakota, visited
us. When she was going home mother gave her
some dresses of mine which I had outgrown.
Among them was one which I had only worn a few
times, and which I especially liked. I was very
angry and told mother I wanted it back. She said
maybe we should go to South Dakota for it some
time. After that I think I asked mother every WK
morning if we were going that day. When I saw
that she kept putting it off I decided to take things
into my own hands. So one cold morning in winter I
arose early, and after dressing put on my little white
hatI liked that better than my hoodand went down
stairs. Mother looked puzzled at first, until I said, "Tell
someone to get the horses ready. I'm going to drive to
South Dakota for that dress. My dolly needs it." And
then mother laughed. Mae Quigley,
Tenth Grade. Wabasha, Minn.
TWO LITTLE SAVAGES.
(Hich School Credit.)
Oh, what a hot day! Wemy sister and myself
iought the orchard. How hot there! We left our dolls
and went to the lake to gather shells, but it w*s so hot
there, too. With an exclamation of delight we started
for the house. Up hill, down hill, over ditches and thru
fences we went, regardless of the heat and in a few
minutes were in our room. When again we left it we
were arrayed in complete masculine attire, the discarded
property of our little cousins. Without heeding the
warning of our elders we went out to play, and were
having a delightful time in the hay-loft when^we saw
a team drive into the yard. It was company. In fear
of being caught we jumped from the hay-loft window
and landed on a strawstack. From there we ran to a
nearby cornfield, seemingly our only refuge. Here we
waited until we saw papa and his company on the porch.
Then we called to him to come to us. He came, but it
would have been much better if he had not, for the com
pany came too. We fled back into the cornfield about a
quarter of a mile. When we stopped we were completely
exhausted and almost smothered, too, for the tall corn
shut out every breath of air.
After a long while we gained courage to approach
home again. Soon we made a raid on the barn, but could
find nothing to put around us except some very heavy
horse blankets. We started to the house, looking not
unlike two little savages, with out hot, flushed faces and
tangled hair, wrapped as we were in a big red blanket.
Mother's eye met our pitiful gaze as we entered the
kitchen, and then she laughed. Stella M. Jones,
Ninth Grade. Dassel, Minn.
For Saturday, May 27:
"AN IDEAL VACATION."
This may be the story either of a vacation that baa
passed, that still seems ideal, or a vacation that would be
Ideal it one could only carry It out- The choice between
these two kinds of stories gives ample opportunity for every
Junior, for even tho one has not had the ideal vacation as
yet, he sorely knows what his ideal is. The papers should be
mailed so as to reach the office of The Journal Junior
2TOT LATER THAN THURSDAY MORNING, HAT 18.
They must be strictly original, written in ink on one side
only of the paper, not more than 300 words in length, nor
less than 100, marked with the number of words and each
paper signed with the grade, school, name and address of the
writer. The papers must not be rolled.
For Saturday, June 3:
"GETTING MADAND AFTERWARDS."
Everybody "gets mad" now and then, some people with
more frequencv than others, things may be very serious while
one is "mad." but often when the tempest la over, the ab
surdity of it or the uselessness of It comes over one. and
makes him either laugh or blush It is not necessary to choose
anything painful to the writer, but among the times of "get
ting mad," there is sure to be one that will fit the topic and
that will not be too tender an experience for the "mad" one
to tell. The papers should be mailed so as to reach the office
of The Journal Junior
NOT LATER THAN THURSDAY HORNING, JUNE 1.
They must be strictly original, written in ink on one side
only of tbe papery not more than 300 words In length, nor
less than 100, marked with the number of words and each pa
per signed with the grade, school, name and address of the
g-r-ir -r ^SK
THE JOURNAL JUNIOR, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1905.
A TALE ABOUT TRUANTS
(High School Credit.)
"Now, Inez, don't be squeamish your mother won't
"But it seems to me, I ought to tell her we're going,
'cause we mightn't get back until late," said I dubi
"Inez!" said Edna, pettishly, "don't put anything
in the way. She'll never know the difference, so come
on before it gets too late."
I climbed into the carriage, but with many misgiv
ings. We reached the lake in about an hour and ran to
see if we could find a'boat. At last we found one, and
I clambered in, while Edna tried to push it from shore.
But great was the woe thereof Bhe lost her footing and
fell into the water. I laughed, and as she picked herself
up she said spitefully, "You've got to act decent, or else
you'll walk home."
"No such a thing!" I retorted.
"Well, let's go home, anyway," she said, mourn
On the way back to the carriage I caught the skirt
of my dress on a barb. "You have to take the blame
of everything. It was you who made me come," I mut
tered, as I pinned up the tear.
'I'll see myself I You. didn't have to come," was
If you want to go fast, go the old road.
Every bird is handsome compared with the
A mountain is climbed by degrees, property
acquired by degrees, wisdom learnt by degrees.
If a cock ruffles up his feathers, it is easy to
pluck him. If a man gets angry he is done for.
Constant cutting dulls the knife constant
talking dulls the wits.
Don't speak like a mountain, it is so easy to
It was dusk when we started for home, and dark
when we reached it. I left my friend at her door and
started on a run for mine.
"Oh, Inez' your mother is terribly worried." I
turned, to see a friend on the way to a party. As I
walked up on the porch mama came to the door. "Oh,
In!'' then she stopped. There I stood, with a long
tear in my skirt and grimy, tear-stained face. "Oh,
Inez! And then mother laughed. Inez Works,
Ninth Grade. Hawley, Minn.
DISMAIr ALL 'BOUND
(High School Credit.)
That morning was dismal. Loud peals of thunder
rumbled and the sky was continuously lit with flashes
of lightning. For a long time I lay awake, listening to
the howling of the wind and dashing of the rain against
-the window-panes. Suddenly my sister sat up and said
drowsily, I believe it's raining." I should say so,"
I replied. "Let's go down and surprise mother by get
ting breakfast. I don't bke to Btay here in the dark
when it is so stormy. Besides, it will be fun to cook."
"All right," she said.
Descending the stairs, we heard th clock strike five.
"Good now we will have time to prepare a good, warm
breakfast," said I. Having used a handful of matches
and filled the room with smoke, we at last started a
smouldering fire and began preparing breakfast. "We
will have waffles and coffee," said I, taking the position
of head-cook. "Set the table and grind coffee." "But
do you know how to make waffles!" said sister, doubt
fully. "Know how to make waffles? Should I not know,
when I have seen mother make them so many times f"
I replied, somewhat impatient that she should disparage
my abilities as cook (at that time I considered myself
quite a good cook). I stirred together flour, milk, half a
cup of baking powder and some other ingredients, into a
batter as thick as bread dough. Then, without greasing
the griddle I began baking my first waffle. How it did
raise! Soon the whole top of the stove was covered with
the batter. "Phew," said my sister, holding her nose. A most
disagreeable odor issued from the stove and made its way.
into mother's room. She hurried into the kitchen. "What
aye you doing!" she asked, nervously. "Preparing
breakfast," we replied. "By the way it smells we shall
have a delicious meal,'' she said, looking at the stove.
And then mother laughed. Lilly Boman,
Ninth Grade. Cokato, Minn.
MUCH LIKE A FOOTBALL
Many a time, when but a little tot, I was informed
that in years to come I should make a splendid football,
my dimensions being about the same all around. I lived
happily each, day, running about from morning till noon,
from noon till night, and enjoying mud pies, dolls and
marbles, to my heart's content. Not being an extraordin
ary child, I was very often found doing things not quite
so angelic as they might have been. I had a very trying
habit of running away, not very far, as my legs could
not be induced to go more than a certain distance before
I was traced, and amid many wails and much kicking
carried back home. For my part, it did not matter if I
could not go far, if I only could go. It was a different
matter, however with mother and sisters. They were
bound to find out my way of escape and end my excur
sions. They shut and tied all the gates the fence was too
high for, me to climb over, so how did I get outf That
was a question yet to be solved.
Bach day they watched my movements with intense
interest, hoping to gain their point, but to avail. I_
seemed t be too sly for them, until one day my brother"
happened to see me in the act of crawling under the
fence after one of our roostersnot- only the biggest,
but also the proudest one in the barnyardwho had made
the hole, and I had helped him make use of it. My brother
ran in all haste to spread the news, and then mother
laughed. Anna Trieloff,
Seventh Grade. Carver, Minn.
SOME EAT-TBAP LOGIC
"Don't let Arthur get a rat-trap. You never know
where it may get!" said mother one day when father
suggested that I get a rat-trap to kill the rats that were
eating all his feed in the barn. "If he thinks he can
catch a rat with it let him get it," said father. So I
went up town to buy one. On my way I thought if I
could catch one rat in one rat-trap I could catch a half
dozen rats in a half dozen rat-traps, so I bought a half
dozen rat-traps. When I reached home I set them all
over the barn where I thought a rat would go.
In the morning papa went out rather late to feed
the stock. Very soon we heard a terrible commotion in.
the barnthe chickens were cackling, the rooster crow
ing, the cow mooing, the horse kicking, the cat mewing,
the dog barking, papa was calling for help, and a tramp
who had slept in the hay-loft that night was yelling, too.
Mother rushed out to see what the matter was, and
found that a hen was caught in a trap I set by a
nest, thinking the rats would carry away the eggs.
The cat was caught in another in her search for
rats. The cow's tail was caught in another as she
was switching it impatiently for her feed, and
the hoTse had her nose in one I had set in her
manger. The tramp in the loft had his foot
caught in one, and papa put his hand into another
when he went to get bran for the cow.
The next day father scolded me for setting
the traps, and I said, I expected to catch half
a dozen rats in them, but I caught a half dozen
lobsters instead." And then mother laughed.
Sixth Grade, Arthur McElroy,
Washington School. St. Cloud, Minn.
VISITING GROWNUP LAND
Spring had come to beautiful Walhalla, N. D.,
and brought with it the birds and buds, also the
house-cleaning season. Mama put all the discarded
clothes into a barrel in the carriage house. I was
a little chap, about four years old, and very
anxious to attend school, but to all of my coaxing
~Hfl mama said, "No, not yet, you are not old enough."
One day while caring for my little sister the
yard a happy thought came to me. Why not make
the teacher think we were quite grown up! There
was the barrel of old clothes. So I fished out a vest
and cap of papa's and donned them, then a hat and
waist of mama's for sister, and we were soon attired for
our appearance at the school, which was quite near,
never dreaming we should not be accepted as pupils. I
took sister's hand and we trudged up to the door and
The principal opened the door. I made my best
bow and sister said, "Howdy do." To our surprise the
principal hid his face behind a book and all of the
scholars laughed. Then he asked what we wanted. I
-replied, "We want to see what kind of a teacher the
children have." He told us he "thought our mama
needed us, and to go home." When I saw what a fail
ure we had made to impress the teacher with our import
ance, I thought mama would be angry because we went.
But mama only laughed. -Charles Randall,
Fifth Grade. Cavalier, N. D.
GRANDMA RATHER CROSS
I had always lived in the country and could remember
about moving only once. Now we were going to move
again. I was six years old at the time we were going
to live with my grandpa and I was very much excited
about it. Our old dog, who was two or three years
older than I was, did not like to see us take up carpets
and rugs and put them into wagons, and take them away.
He was very sorrowful about it. At last we left the
home which had been ours for a year and came to our
new home in town. After looking around the rooms for
a little while I came upon an enlarged picture of my
great-great-grandmother. I did not like the looks of her
she did look kind of cross. "Mama," I said anxiously,
"is she mad at us because we came here to live?"
"No," she said, and then mother laughed.
Fifth Grade. Edith Carson,
THE "BEST" HURT OF ALL
One year there were so many gophers in our field
that much of our corn was durr. out and eaten. Papa did
not like this and so he promised my brother a penny for
every gopher he caught. My brother then hunted all the
traps he could find and started for the field, thinking
of all the money he might earn. When he arrived at the
first hole he saw, he stopped to set a trap. He opened it,
but it would not stay open and quickly shut again. Soon
we heard someone cry, and running outside mama saw
him coming home with his fingers in the trap. After
mama had released him he came to her, saying, "Mama,
this little finger hurts me the best," and then another
laughed. Ida Bahr,
Eighth Grade. Arlington, Mitin.
POOR DOGGIE HAD NONE
One day some of us boys went to fish in a brook
where fish were plentiful. It was so hot that we wanted
to go swimming, and so we did. Afterwards we began
to fish. We fished for nearly seven hours. It grew
darker every second, so we went home. We did not
have very far to go, because we lived near the brook.
When we were about a block away from home my do#
came to meet me. To his surprise he did not find any
fish and he began to growL We kept on walking till
we reached home. I saw my mother coming. She said,
"Where are your fish?" I said, I did not catch any."
And then mother laughed, Arthur Carlson,
Sixth Grade. Lake City, Minn.
AND TEEN THE DELUGE
The month of February of this year being unusually
mild, the snow and ice melted away considerably earUerf-~^s|