the trinket would look round her smooth white throat! Instantly she
determined to try for this prize, and of course as instantly the bare
idea of defeat became intolerable to her. She went steadily and
methodically to work. With extreme care she chose her subject. Knowing
something of Mrs. Willis' peculiarities, she determined that her theme
should not be historical; she believed that she could express herself
freely and with power if only she could secure an unhackneyed subject.
Suddenly an idea which she considered brilliant occurred to her. She
would call her composition "The River." This should not bear reference to
Father Thames, or any other special river of England, but it should trace
the windings of some fabled stream of Dora's imagination, which, as it
flowed along, should tell something of the story of the many places by
which it passed. Dora was charmed with her own thought, and worked hard,
evening after evening, at her subject, covering sheets of manuscript
paper with penciled jottings, and arranging and rearranging her somewhat
confused thoughts. She greatly admired a perfectly rounded period, and
she was most particular as to the style in which she wrote. For the
purpose of improving her style she even studied old volumes of Addison's
_Spectator_; but after a time she gave up this course of study, for she
found it so difficult to mold her English to Addison's that she came to
the comfortable conclusion that Addison was decidedly obsolete, and that
if she wished to do full justice to "The River" she must trust to her own
unaided genius.

At last the first ten pages were written. The subject was entered upon
with considerable flourishes, and some rather apt poetical quotations
from a book containing a collection of poems; the river itself had
already left its home in the mountain, and was careering merrily past
sunny meadows and little rural, impossible cottages, where the
golden-haired children played.

Dora made a very neat copy of her essay so far. She now began to see her
way clearly--there would be a very powerful passage as the river
approached the murky town. Here, indeed, would be room for powerful and
pathetic writing. She wondered if she might venture so far as to hide a
suicide in her rushing waters; and then at last the brawling river would
lose itself in the sea; and, of course, there would not be the smallest
connection between her river, and Kingsley's well-known song,