herself to depend upon him.

To write to him for an essay she knew would be useless; he would only
laugh, and say,--

"Nonsense! what does Sue want one for?" but if he were with her, he
was so kind and good-natured, he would do almost anything she asked.

But one thing now remained. Miss Randall, their teacher in rhetoric,
who had the charge of the essays, gave subjects to those who wished
them; she could apply to her, and perhaps find in the library
something to help her.

Miss Randall gave her, remembering her former success, and hoping she
would do even better now, an historical subject, "The Signal of Paul
Revere."

"There have not been more than a hundred poems written on the same
subject," she said in a little talk she had with Susan; "but if you
can write poetry, and succeed, all the better for Montrose Academy. We
will send it to the newspaper, and it may be the beginning of making
your name famous."

What a temptation to a girl like Susan!

If--only IF she could find one of those hundred or more poems, find
perhaps the whole of them, and make rhymes (easy work that), and be
"famous," what a glorious thing it would be!

Here was, alas, no repentance, or even fears of doing wrong. It almost
seemed as if the new temptation had obliterated memory of the old
theft, and she was about to enter upon what she had always longed for,
a career of fame.

She began to haunt the library, particularly the shelves of American
poetry; but there was nothing to be found that had special reference
to Paul Revere, not one of "the hundred and more pieces."

In this way she wasted a great deal of precious time, until,
disappointed and discouraged, she was about asking for another
subject, when she came upon a volume of collections of poetry written
on the late war, and a sudden thought that this might be made to
answer the same purpose unfortunately struck her. She had read this
kind of poetry but little; but had enough literary taste to make her
choose one of the very best, consequently most popular and well known,
for her model. "Model," she said to herself when, delighted, she found
how easily she could use it with alterations.

No miser was ever made more happy by a bag of gold than she by this
discovery. "Famous! famous! An honor to Montrose Academy!"

In the end, when her poem was ready for Miss Randall's examination,
she read it aloud to her room-mates, and their astonishment and
delight over her success they w