Chapter II: Part 2

Here Tim interrupted the thread of his brother's narrative to inquire what that crooked thing was on the bank, and Jerry, who had been up to Tompkins Square once, replied that it was a tree.

At Troy, four hundred and sixty-seven happy but very hungry youngsters left the boat, and marched through the streets, like an invading army, to a public hall, where tables loaded down with good things awaited them.

It would be impossible to tell whether their host, Mr. Shepard Tappan, or his little guests, enjoyed the occasion most. I rather think that one little fellow who climbed up on the platform, and drummed upon the grand piano with his fists, while some of the boys pelted him with biscuits, had the best time of all.

On the way to the depot, after breakfast, all the early risers of Troy were out waiting to see the children pass by.

When the special train drew up at a little station on the shore of Lake Champlain, a very lively gentleman, with a note-book in his hand, jumped to the ground, followed by fifty or sixty little folks, who were no sooner off the cars than they rushed into the field of buttercups and daisies that skirted the track to gather bouquets.

After shaking hands very rapidly with the foremost of a group of kind-hearted farmers who had come down to welcome their little guests, and handing one of them a list of the children's names, the lively gentleman was on the cars again, and the train was out of sight in a moment.

My friends Jerry and Tim were among the number to get off at the station, and a few days after, while riding by a fine old farm-house, I was greeted by a "Hi, mister!" from Jerry himself.

"Me and Tim is puttin' up at this hotel," said he. "You oughter see me apartments! Mrs. Bromley is the lady what lives here. Tim calls Mr. Bromley 'Father.' He promised to take Tim out with him to hoe corn or 'taters, or somepin this mornin'; so as soon as breakfast was over, Tim shoulders the hoe, and says he, 'Come, father, if you want to hoe, come with me; you must hurry up.' Didn't they smile! Of course I don't say nothin' to them," continued Jerry, confidentially, "but I think the milk out here is kind of thick. We all went to church Sunday. I rode on horseback this mornin'. The horses here is more frisky than the street-car horses, and there ain't no lumps on their knees. There ain't any milkmen or organ-grinders like there is on Avenue A, but I like to wade in brooks better than our gutter."

Here a little girl came up, with a wreath of daisies around her head, and little Tim ran round her chasing a butterfly. Jerry ran to help him, and the happy children soon disappeared in the tall shrubbery of the farm-yard.

WHAT THE WOLF HID.

BY M. P. HARDY.

We were standing at the window watching Lion, the house-dog, burying a bone in the dead leaves near the fence.

"Why does he do that?" asked my little cousin.

"Animal instinct," replied my father, to whom the question was addressed. "He has more dinner than he cares to eat just now, and so puts away some for the next time. Other animals do the same thing sometimes. I once knew an old lady who when a child had a singular adventure in connection with this same instinct."

Of course there was an immediate demand for the story. Father teased us for a little while, and then he told it, as follows:

"Sixty or seventy years ago, my friend's father was a pioneer in the region bordering on the Ohio River. He and his son were cutting wood in the forest one day, and Polly, then a little girl of five years old or so, was playing near them while they worked. When the time came to go home, Polly was nowhere to be seen.

"'That's strange,' said her father. 'She always obeys so well. I don't see how she could have strayed off.'

"'She wouldn't have gone home without telling us,' said her brother. 'Look! here's her sun-bonnet full of nuts. She must be somewhere around.'

"They looked again and again in every direction, calling, 'Polly! Polly!' all in vain. There were no Indians living near, but wolves and panthers were plenty, and only the winter before the father and son had killed two bears in an attack on the cow-house. So they began to feel seriously alarmed.

"Presently the brother, looking anxiously about, espied an odd-looking heap of leaves on the farther slope of the hill, where no wind could possibly have tossed them. He went to have a closer look at it. Carelessly throwing aside a portion of the heap, he uncovered, to his joyful surprise, a bit of Polly's red frock.

"'Father, come here,' he called, and in a moment more they had the child safe and sound, but fast asleep, in their arms.

"'That's strange,' said her father once more. 'John, take Polly home. I'm going to stay here, and see if I can't find out what this means. She never covered herself up this way, I'm certain. Come back as quick as you can, and bring your rifle with you. Here, hand me mine before you go.'

"So saying, he piled the leaves up neatly once more, putting a small log of wood into the place where the child had lain. He then crouched down behind a fallen tree near by to see what would happen.

"He did not have long to wait. John had scarcely had time to return, almost out of breath with the haste he had made, when the soft patter of paws was heard on the dry leaves, and they saw three gray wolves approaching at full trot, with another slightly in advance leading the way.

"The wolf in front led his comrades straight to the heap of leaves, and scratching eagerly, quickly uncovered the buried log. His dismay was almost comical to behold. He sniffed and smelled and turned his head this way and that in utter bewilderment. How a dainty little girl, plump and soft, and just suited to the taste of a wolf who enjoys a good dinner, could suddenly turn into a great uneatable log of wood was too much for him to understand. He finally gave the problem up in despair, and turned to his companions, cowering like a beaten hound.

"There were some sharp barks of disappointment, followed by snarls, as the three guests, who had evidently been bidden to a feast which was not forth-coming, expressed their indignation at the supposed hoax.

"The other wolf only whined dolefully, but in vain, for the three fell upon him, and in less time than it takes to tell of it, tore him into pieces, and began to devour him. They did not finish the meal, however, for the two rifles behind the log cracked once and again, and all three wolves lay dead beside the comrade whom they had punished so terribly.

"I have every reason to believe this story literally true," continued my father; "and the other day I told it to Mr. E. S. Ellis, the well-known writer of stories of Western adventure.

"'I have no doubt it happened just as you heard it,' he said. 'The incident is uncommon, but not unknown in natural history. My grandfather knew a lumberman who went to sleep in the woods in Northern New York, and was awakened by a panther covering him with leaves. He lay still till the animal got through and went off, when he jumped up and left too. He didn't wait for the panther to come back.'"

HOMING PIGEONS.

BY C. W. FISHER.

As long ago as the days of the great Roman Empire pigeons were employed as message-bearers. Since that time both the breed and training of carriers have so steadily improved that to-day the accounts of their intelligence and skill are almost marvellous.

In Belgium and Turkey, perhaps, of all the countries of Europe, the most perfect results have been achieved, though Germany and France have established government depots, educating the birds for practical use in time of war or other necessity.

In America the carrier is used chiefly for sporting, and pigeon-racing has become quite common. Associations have been formed all over the country for the purpose of perfecting the stock, and having frequent trials of speed, and so lively and wide-spread an interest is taken in the sport that there is a general desire to know more of the birds and the means by which their remarkable instincts are developed.

As the name implies, "homing" pigeons are birds which possess so strong a love for home that their first impulse when free is to return there. They are so keen of sense that they are able to find their way back even from distances of several hundred miles, and in an incredibly short time.

The pigeon now known as the carrier was probably originally used for homing. Its usefulness in that direction, however, has long since departed; it is to-day simply a fancy bird, and a carrier by courtesy only.

The name "homing" is not given to any one variety of pigeons, several kinds possessing the faculty. They are all large in frame, and resemble the carrier in appearance, being undoubtedly descended from the same stock. They are easily raised and easily taught, and the pleasure derived from the teaching amply repays the little care required. A boy can certainly find no more absorbing occupation for his spare hours, and with a little patience can train a bird very successfully.

In the first place, the "loft," as the pigeon-cote is called, should be lofty. The birds are very keen of vision, it is true, but so great a tax is made upon their keenness that we should aid them all we can; therefore build your cote so high that it can be readily distinguished among surrounding objects.

As they are likely to return from a flight at any hour, the loft must be so arranged as to admit the birds at all times, while egress is permitted only at the owner's pleasure. Either or both of two very simple devices will meet this need. One is a square opening in the roof large enough to allow the passage within of a bird with folded wings, but too small to permit its outward flight with wings spread. The other is a wire drop door, which yields easily to pressure from the outside, and falling after the pigeon has entered, keeps him a prisoner.

Having prepared the loft, in buying be careful to select only young birds. Old ones, if good for anything, will upon the first opportunity return to the home from which you have taken them. Remember, in training, that the simple secret of success lies in teaching your bird to know its home and its vicinity thoroughly.

To aid you in this, let your cote be provided with a broad wire-inclosed ledge, from which the pigeons may have an uninterrupted view of the neighborhood even while confined. Their education may begin as soon as they are grown. Commence it by carrying them half a mile from home in a covered basket, and loosing them by tossing well up in the air. If made of the right stuff, they will rise high enough to command a good view, then fly directly to the loft. Should any fail to do so, they are little loss to the brood, and had far better show their uselessness at an early stage of their training than later. So waste no time in regrets over any such good-for-naughts; they are not worth it.

Those that return should be taken out again, the day following, about the same distance, but in a different direction, and this process continued until they are perfectly familiar with all the landmarks within half a mile of home. When this has been accomplished, half the battle is won.

The distances may then be increased, by one or two mile stages, up to ten miles, always loosing the birds hungry. From ten miles advance by five-mile steps to twenty-five miles, and thence by ten-mile increases to fifty miles. Long flights must be gone over by longer or shorter stages, depending upon the smartness of the pigeon in training. It is almost useless to expect one to reach home over a wholly unknown route. The probabilities are that some of the birds will fail to reach the cote in almost every flight. This is to be expected, and the young trainer may be reconciled to their loss by the thought that those that have returned have proved themselves all the more worthy of his care and instruction.

Their speed is almost beyond belief, thirty, sixty, and even ninety miles an hour being recorded of them--a rate which would carry one across the Atlantic in three days.

Aside from the pure sport derived from their rearing, the practical uses to which their intelligence may be put are very many.

During the siege of Paris a daily pigeon-post was established, by means of which persons within the beleaguered city were enabled to correspond with friends without.

The messages, were printed and photographed microscopically upon a very thin film of paper, which was rolled in a quill, and fastened to the leg or one of the tail feathers. At intervals numbers of the pigeons were returned in balloons, so that constant communication was had. Country doctors in England long employed carriers to convey medicines to distant patients, and only a few days since it was announced that the Prussian government had determined to make use of them in the coasting service to establish communication with the light-ships lying off the coast of the North Sea. Since 1876 experiments with them have been made with great success. Such communication is of the utmost importance not only to the light-ships themselves, but to incoming vessels that may be in distress. Birds are being bred and trained especially for this service, and a number have made the distance from light-ship to shore--thirty-five miles--in thirty minutes, and that in the face of a heavy gale. News of distress can be thus sent to the land with the greatest dispatch and under circumstances when life may depend upon the loss of a moment; a single "homer" may be the means of saving a crew.

At this season of the year particularly very many trials of speed are taking place, and often birds are on the way home a number of days, returning long after they have been given up.

Raising homing pigeons is a pursuit which all who are fond of pets must enjoy, and one which the boys would do well to engage in.

BURIED TREASURES.

In an old country like Japan, which has a history of two thousand years, there must be much treasure buried in the soil. There have been centuries of war, when people lived in continual danger of robbers or soldiers.

In those times money and other valuables were often secreted in the ground, out in the woods or meadows, or under the foundations of a house. The death of the owner would leave the spot unknown, to lie in obscurity forever, or to reward some accidental finder of the prize. In almost all the old settled parts of Japan every spot of ground has been built and burned, farmed and fought over, many times, and the discovery of hidden treasure is a common occurrence. The Japanese government has passed laws declaring that all such treasure belongs to the state. The honest finder is always, however, liberally rewarded.

While living in Japan, from 1870 to 1874, I heard of several cases of buried treasure coming to light. Some of them were old pieces of money, like bullets, or lumps of silver and gold of all shapes, and simply stamped in one place. The happy finder in the picture has struck upon a mass of the thin oval gold coins called obans, which are worth from ten to fifty dollars each in our money. Even his dog shares his glee, while behind him is his envious neighbor, who is vexed because he did not see the coins first.

There are many foolish persons in the United States who have spent great labor and wasted much time to find the pots of gold which Captain Kidd is said to have buried near the sea-shore. So in Japan: I met, while there, several foolish people, whose whole mind was set on getting suddenly rich by finding buried money. The amount of spade-work and field-digging which they accomplished without any success would have sufficed to have made good farmers of them. It is a surer thing in Japan, as in America, to seek to find gold by steady work and a mind on the lookout for opportunities than by digging for it at random.

The Chinese way of talking about a person who is "waiting for something to turn up" is "sitting beside a stump, on the watch for a hare." A farmer in ancient times was ploughing a rice field, when he saw a hare dash itself against a stump that stood in his field; and immediately fall dead. The foolish farmer, leaving his plough, sat down upon the stump and waited for another hare to come and do likewise, which no other hare was foolish enough to do.

Do you know where the laurel climbs over the mountain
In great blushing clusters so dewy and sweet?
Do you know where the buttercups laugh in the meadow,
And the daisies shine out on the edge of the wheat?

Come wander with me in the glad sunny morning;
I'll show you where flowers by hundreds are found;
Some up on the hill-tops, some down in the valleys,
And some like stars dropped on the green mossy ground.

Do you know a wise robin with three little children?
Could you find, safely hidden, the humming-bird's nest?
Do you think, if you saw it, you'd guess by the color
The flash of the tanager's beautiful crest?

Come, I know the birdies; they sing for me often;
They fly in and out, and don't mind me at all;
I watch their bright eyes and their quick little motions,
And I know when in anger or trouble they call.

I've an armful of flowers and feathery grasses--
I'm taking them home to my mother, you see;
She'll help me to weave them in baskets and bunches
For pale Susy Rice and for lame Mattie Lee.

I'm so strong and so well, and I never am tired,
And they are so quiet, and often in pain,
That I'm sure they'll be glad when they hear my steps coming,
And ask me to gather them flowers again.

A real satisfaction is afforded us in the perusal of such a note as the following from an appreciative reader. We are very glad indeed that while our paper delights the little ones, it also receives the cordial approbation of their parents.

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI.

DEAR HARPERS,--I just want to thank you for publishing HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE. Though not a youngster--in fact, my oldest son is
nineteen, and wears a mustache--I doubt whether anybody gets more
solid enjoyment from the periodical than I do. I am what is called
a great reader. Even during the busiest period of my life I always
allowed myself one hour at least per day for reading. So my
enjoyment is not exactly that of a vacant mind. Gratefully yours,

A FRIEND.

* * * * *

MONTROSE, SCOTLAND.

I thought you would like to hear from a girl in Scotland who gets
your paper, and enjoys it so much. I have had it from the first
number. If you would like a bit of heather, I will send it to you
when it is in bloom. The next letter I write will be in my native
tongue--Scotch; that is to say, if you are pleased with this one.
My best love to the Postmistress.

A. M. G.

If by your native tongue you mean the Gaelic, I fear I will just have to keep your next letter as a curiosity; but if the sweet Scottish dialect which rings so tunefully through the songs of the poet Burns is what you are thinking of, dinna forget your promise, dear bairn. And be sure you send the bit of heather, the mere mention of which this summer day sends my thoughts off to breezy moors and purple hills, where sheep graze and goats scramble.

* * * * *

CRAWFORD, MISSISSIPPI.

I am a little girl nine years old. I have two little sisters,
Saidie and Laura. Saidie is six years old, and Laura is four years
old. Grandma lives with us, and teaches Saidie and me. I study
geography, arithmetic, spelling, reading, writing, and music. We
have a swing and a baby doll apiece. My baby is named Nellie,
Saidie's Lily, and Laura's Annie. We have one old cat and three
little kittens. The old cat's name is Mammy; she is mine. My
kitten's name is Topsy, Saidie's Beauty, and Laura's Nannie. They
don't know any tricks, but Mammy broke my cup and saucer that papa
and mamma gave me on Christmas. I can sew very well on the machine.
I made a dress all by myself. I am making a quilt. I hope you can
find room for this in my dear, dear paper, as it is my first
letter. I don't know what I would do without my YOUNG PEOPLE. I
live in the country.

BETTIE F. Y.

I think it must be very pleasant for three little sisters to go to school to a dear grandma. Mammy was quite tricksy when she broke your cup and saucer, whether she knows any tricks or not. I am always very much pleased when I hear that little girls are learning to sew. Do you know that thimble used to be called thumb-bell, and that those clever people the Dutch brought thumb-bells to England with them in 1605? Finger-cap would be a pretty name for the tiny thimble which, no doubt, fits Bettie's rosy finger-tip to a T.

* * * * *

SUCCESS, MISSOURI.

We subscribed for you again, dear YOUNG PEOPLE, and you can not
imagine with what pleasure the first copies were received. We ran
to meet papa on Thursday, and how we shouted when we saw that our
books had come! But we made still more noise when we saw our old
friends Toby Tyler and Jimmy Brown. We saw one grand improvement in
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and it was the Postmistress. What a dear,
kind, patient lady she must be! We have a great many pets. Perhaps
we would not have so many if we did not make pets out of almost
everything; even the calves and pigs are pets. We have got a very
cunning little kitten. She is very playful, but will not make
friends with our dog Hunter. Do you think she could be taught to
sit up and beg as some dogs do? Kitty _can_ sit up when she wants
to, but it seems so easy for her to fall over. We have a pretty
little red calf that is a pet, and we named her Baby, because she
was smaller than any of the other calves of her age. We have a
handsome black colt that is two years old, and he is the greatest
pet of all. He is a little orphan. His mother died when he was a
very young colt, and my sister and I have raised him by hand. I
could fill a whole page telling you how cute he is, but I am afraid
you would not want to print so much. We have not any little birds,
but we have an empty cage, and could catch a great many wild birds
if we wished to; but we don't think they would love us if we took
them out of the beautiful woods and shut them in a narrow cage.
There are a great many wild birds' nests close around here, and in
the morning they make the woods echo with their sweet songs. In the
winter the snow-birds come every morning for their breakfast of
bread-crumbs; so we always have birds around us, winter or summer.
Rosalie P.'s letter was the first I ever saw in Our Post-office Box
written by any person that I knew. Now we will close, and, dear
Postmistress, we hope we have not made your head ache by such a
long chatterbox letter.

ADDIE and LULU.

Made my head ache? No indeed; though you did make me blush when I read those complimentary adjectives. You are quite right not to catch and cage the wild birds, and the pets you now have are enough in number to occupy all your spare moments. Probably you can teach kitty to beg if you try; but is it worth while?

* * * * *

Polly and Patty one summer day
To the dentist had to go,
For the little white teeth in Polly's mouth
Were not in an even row.
And Patty had one that ached and hurt,
Until she was fairly wild;
So mother said to her two sweet girls,
"You must each be brave, dear child!"

* * * * *

COLLEGE HILL, NEAR CINCINNATI, OHIO.

The Post-office Box is very interesting to us little folks, and I
have long wanted to contribute to it, but my papa tells me to write
only when I have something of interest to say, so I have waited
until now. Among our many Christmas gifts this year was HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE, which has given us a great deal of pleasure; indeed,
we are so anxious we read it together. "We" means my sister Fanny
and myself. My little brother, three years old, saw a circus
procession last spring, and was delighted with it. When he came
home he said he saw "great big pigs with logs tied on in front, and
strings fastened on behind" (meaning the elephants), and "great big
horses with lumps on their backs" (meaning the camels).

DAISY D.

* * * * *

CAMBRIDGEBOROUGH, PENNSYLVANIA.

I will tell you about our Indian excitement in Arizona last spring.
We were living in Galeyville at the time of the Apache outbreak
(some of you will remember the letter from there in No. 128). We
were dreadfully frightened. We heard the firing one day when one of
the men was shot. He went out to look for his horses, when the
red-skins saw and killed him. We could see them (the Indians) the
same evening as they passed just below town; they had hundreds of
stolen horses along. At night the women and children slept in an
adobe house which was barricaded. All the men in the camp were
armed, and took turns at keeping guard; they expected to have a
fight some morning at daybreak.

My papa and another gentleman talked the matter over, and decided
to send their families to Tucson. So we got ready very hastily, and
on the morning of the 26th of April we said "good-by" to the dear
old camp where we had had such good times. It was a drive of
twenty-five miles to our station on the Southern Pacific Railroad.
There were two ladies, five children, and five riflemen, besides
papa, who drove. A mile out of town we came to an encampment of
soldiers, about five hundred in number. Two companies were mounted
and moving, and the others were drawn up in line, ready to mount;
each man stood at his horse's head, and took off his hat as we
passed. We boys thought it very fine. But the scouts who
accompanied them, about eighty Yuma Indians, looked hideous in
their war-paint. They wore but little clothing, and all had red
turbans on to show that they belonged to the United States service.

When ten miles from home we crossed a fresh trail, and a few
moments later discovered a band of Indians on either side, the one
at our right being the larger, and some two miles away. Those at
the left--there were twenty--were nearer, and as soon as they saw
us, wheeled about, and came dashing after us. Papa whipped Kate and
Jennie, and they broke into a regular runaway, which lasted for a
mile or more, the Indians, of course, gaining on us all the while,
and soon we were almost in shooting distance. Papa then stopped the
team to prepare for an attack, when the Indians halted, seeming to
hold a council, then turned and rode back as fast as they had come.
They no doubt saw we were well armed, and that they might get the
worst of it. The large band was mostly composed of stolen horses
without riders, but this we could not at first make out. I can
never tell you how frightened mamma and Mrs. S. were, and how glad
we all were to see the last of the hostiles.

We reached the railroad without any accident, and in time for the
train. Mamma, brother, and I were in Tucson ten days, and then came
here to my grandpa's house. The folks here had heard that we were
all killed. A number of papa's friends were killed, and it was a
most dreadful time. There are now no ladies or children at
Galeyville, nor will there be for a long time. It makes us homesick
to think about it all. My papa came on a few weeks ago, and we
intend to stay here all summer. This is a very pleasant town. A
river flows through it, bordered by grand old trees and sloping
grassy banks, and spanned by a handsome suspension-bridge. We have
nice times riding black Charlie, my grandpa's horse.

GEORGIE B. C.

What a jubilee there must have been at grandpa's when you arrived there safe and sound.

* * * * *

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

I never saw a letter from this "City of the Angels," so I thought I
would write you one. I am a little girl only ten years old, but I
like to read. I am very glad when Tuesday comes, for that is the
day I get the YOUNG PEOPLE. It takes a long time for the paper to
get here, and I suppose that while I am reading this week's number
some little girls in New York are reading the next number. I expect
you would like to hear something about this city so far away. Here
the weather is so very fine--just the same the whole year round. We
do not have hot days as they do in the East, and the nights are
always cool. The winter is the prettiest part of the year, for then
everything is green. You ought to see the orange groves and
vineyards. They pick oranges every day in the year. I tell you, I
love oranges. Papa says he could catch me in a dead fall with
oranges--whatever that is. Besides oranges, they grow lemons, figs,
cherries, apricots, limes, walnuts, and oh, so many things! And oh,
the roses--I do love roses so!--bloom all the time. You must not
think that because we are so far away we do not see anything nor
have anything that other people see and have. We have everything
you have East. My favorite piece is "Toby Tyler." I like Our
Post-office Box ever so much. I have no pets; but I have a nice
doll, and a mischievous brother who is five years old. His name is
Guy.

LOUIDA O'B.

* * * * *

HAMILTON, MASSACHUSETTS.

I am a little girl ten years old. I have a little tortoise-shell
kitten. He is so cunning! I named him Twinkletum Shine, after a
star that was in YOUNG PEOPLE. Tell the Postmistress to tell Jimmy
Brown to write some more. This is my second letter, but the other
was not printed. I was so sorry!

ELLA W. F.

* * * * *

TAMPA, FLORIDA.

I am a little girl twelve years old, and have taken HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE nearly a year, and I enjoy it so much! Papa has a beautiful
orange grove, ten miles from Tampa, and we do enjoy the oranges,
for they are so sweet. Tampa is beautifully situated on Tampa Bay.
We have a splendid view of the Gulf of Mexico. I have eighteen
dolls, and a cat named Baby, who eats raw cabbage and turnips, and
talks for his dinner. He will let me dress him up in my dolls'
clothes, and put him in my dolls' carriage, and take him to ride. I
had a nice dog named Spot, but some one poisoned him, and he died.
I have only one sister, and she is older than myself. We are the
only children. I have tried a great many of your candy receipts,
and they have proved to be splendid. I fear my letter will weary
you. Much love to the Postmistress.

MINNIE W.

* * * * *

COLD SPRING, NEW YORK.

I was nine years old on April 15. We have two cats named Jack and
Tabby, and a dog named Franklin. He can beg, walk, fetch things,
jump over a stick, die, and will put things down when you tell him
to. I take music lessons, and go to school. I have all the numbers
of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE from No. 1 to No. 144. I have a croquet
set. The wickets are made of wire and corks. The stakes are corks,
and for mallets and balls I have sticks and marbles. You can use it
in the house, on the table or on the floor. We did not buy the set,
but it was made at home. I have more than eleven dolls. I will
mention some: Bertha King, Mary King, Eddie King, Susan Stuart,
Nellie Stuart, Emma Stuart, Daisy Stuart, Lily King, Maud Stuart,
Cherubina Stuart, and others. I have a brother and a sister. My
brother is eleven years old, and my sister is sixteen.

HELEN B. W.

Perhaps some ingenious boys who read Helen's letter will try to make a croquet set like hers for their sisters.

* * * * *

TEXANA, TEXAS.

As brother Tom takes YOUNG PEOPLE, and we like it so much on
account of the good stories it contains, I thought I would write a
letter to Our Post-office Box. I am eleven years old, and have been
going to school up at Navidad to Mr. S. It is ten miles from here,
and my older brother Tom and I come home every Friday evening, and
go back Sunday evening. We board with our sister Irene. It is now
vacation, and we are at home helping our papa and mamma work. I see
so many writing about their pet cats, dogs, birds, etc. I have two
cats, one a yellow one, and the other a white and gray; but papa
does not like them much, especially when they come about the table.
My business is to hunt up the hens and guineas' nests. Sometimes I
find several dozen eggs in the same nest. I also look after the
turkeys. We have sixty-two young turkeys, some nearly half grown.
They go off every morning, after I feed them with clabber, to the
millet patch and prairie after grasshoppers, and at night come home
to roost. There are nineteen small ones that we keep in the
yard--too small to let out yet. We also have twenty-five young
guineas; they are small, and have to be kept in the yard. They have
a box to roost in to keep from getting drowned when it rains.

We have not had much rain until yesterday for a long time. Our
garden had been parched up, but now I reckon it will revive. There
are a great many cracks in the ground here when it gets very dry,
large enough to put your foot in, and it is very dangerous then to
run a horse on the prairie. I send you two Spanish butterflies
(that is what we call them). They are the most voracious things you
ever saw. Our railroad is completed to Victoria.

LUCIUS I. S.

The butterflies are very handsome, and quite formidable-looking.

* * * * *

ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY.

I have just got home from Europe. I was over there one year, so I
became quite accustomed to it, but I like America far better than
any other land. When we left England all you could hear was about
the Egyptian war; it was on every tongue. England may be large and
great, but I like Scotland best. It is so beautiful! Everywhere you
go it is lovely, and it has such romantic old castles! And, do you
know, I saw the place where poor Rizzio was killed. I will tell you
how we came to go to Europe. It was my birthday, and papa asked me
what I wanted for a present. I did not know, so I said that I would
like to go to Europe. All our folks laughed at me, but still papa
gave me no present. So one day our carriage stopped at the door
just as usual, and mamma, papa, and I got in, as I thought to go
riding; but we went down such dirty streets that they attracted my
attention, and I asked papa about it, and he said we were going a
new way. At last we came in sight of a large vessel. We went on
board, for papa said he wanted to show me the _Illinois_, and as we
stepped upon it all our friends and relations were there. They all
kissed me in a hurry, and said, "May you well enjoy your birthday
present!"

GERTIE D.

Very few girls have had a nicer birthday present than the one your papa gave you. What a charming surprise!

* * * * *

KIRKWOOD, MISSOURI.

I am eleven years old, and have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for
three years, but have never attempted to write to you before. I
have only been going to school a year, for we have always lived so
far out in the country that mamma has been afraid to send me so far
from home. It is vacation now, but mine is almost spoiled by my
having the whooping-cough, which I do not particularly enjoy. My
sister Jessie and I often take turns riding horseback down to the
depot to meet our papa, who comes home every evening on the
seven-o'clock train. We spent last winter in the city of St. Louis.
Jessie and I have each a flower bed of our own. Jessie's is in the
shape of a letter J for her name, and has a great many pretty
flowers in it, such as pansies, verbenas, phlox, heliotrope, and
other plants. Mine is round, and has a great many geraniums, and in
the centre is a plant called the hibiscus, which has a very pretty
large red flower on it. We have a great deal of fruit now. The
peach, pear, apple, and plum trees are so full that we have to prop
them up with poles.

PERLE.

I think if one must have the whooping-cough, it interferes less with vacation pleasures than with school duties.

* * * * *

MONTCLAIR, NEW JERSEY.

I am a little girl, nine years old. We have two dogs; their names
are Dan and Frisk. Dan is a pointer. He is very loving and full of
fun, and if you throw a ball, he will run and bring it back to you,
and he plays hide-and-seek as well as a little girl could. Frisk is
a little yellow dog. He is very ugly, but very funny. While I was
writing this letter Dan came in and jumped on the paper with muddy
paws, so I had to copy it over.

LILY C.

* * * * *

THE FIRST SAIL.

Little Jimmie Evereux stood on the pier looking at a white sail-boat with two seats in it, and wondering if his papa would ever come and give him the long-looked-forward-to first ride in it. Jimmie had on his new blue sailor suit, and it was no wonder that passers-by looked with interest at the "blue-eyed laddie," who had waited so patiently for half an hour. But all things come to an end at last, and Jimmie's patience was no exception. After a long look up and down the shore, Jimmie crossed the street and went up the walk toward the pretty cottage where he and his mamma and papa and auntie lived all summer.

Mamma and auntie sat on the piazza, sewing and talking. Said mamma:

"Mrs. Gray has been ill, I hear. I pity her so much! She doesn't seem to enjoy life one bit."

"Oh, I don't know," said auntie. "Perhaps she needs rest. Why not invite her out here for a little while?"

"I'll let her ride in the new boat," said Jimmie, anxious to be good to Mrs. Gray.

"You wouldn't the first time, would you?" said auntie.

"Y--yes," said Jimmie. "Only--well, she isn't here."

"Jimmie," said mamma, "go down to the post-office and see if there's a letter from grandma there."

"I'm afraid papa will come."

"Well, what if he does? You won't be long."

"All right, then," said Jimmie; and away he went.

At the post-office was a letter for auntie, a paper for mamma, his own HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and the _Daily News_. Jimmie started home gayly; but when he reached the gate, his joy turned to sorrow, for Mrs. Gray sat on the piazza. Papa beckoned to Jimmie, who followed him into the house.

"Jimmie," said papa, "will you give up your sail-boat ride to Mrs. Gray?"

"Oh, papa!" Then, after thinking a minute: "Yes, I will."

"That's my good little boy," said papa; and in a few minutes they were gone.

Jimmie soon forgot his disappointment in laughing over "Mr. Stubbs's Brother," and mamma helped to console him by a little gold dollar from grandma.

A. R. W.

* * * * *

Frank R. writes about his dog Prince, who protects the chickens against cats, and helps his master catch them when they run away. Ernest D. tells about the quartz mines near his home in California. Richard H. has a dog named Flora, a Newfoundland. This splendid animal weighs 100 pounds, and, harnessed to the baby's carriage, draws that little lady about the town. Thomas M. has a calf which is pure white except its ears, nose, and legs above the hoof, which are red. Alice F. must write a longer letter next time. Jimmie R. has five hives of bees, two Italian and three hybrid, and is very successful in getting large quantities of honey. This Jimmie sends his regards to Jimmy Brown. Winifred C. has a good time practicing with her bow and arrows, and riding her gentle horse Ned. Lillie C., L. C. L., Willie B., and a great many more girls and boys are enjoying this vacation very much. The Postmistress sends her love to all her correspondents. She often wonders what this and that one is doing, and the little fishermen, apple-gatherers, bee-keepers, and home-helpers have her good wishes. Write again, little fingers, and don't be discouraged, even though Our Post-office Box does not print your letters.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

TWO AUNTIES.

"So that things are done," says Theo, "it does not matter how they are done."

The Postmistress differs with you, Theo. There are kind-hearted people in this world who spoil the effect of their best actions by cross or surly manners. The most beautiful gift will not please you if thrown in your face. Gifts are valued for the love they signify, and so they need loving looks and words to make them welcome. I have seen a family of young people perfectly devoted to an auntie who never did anything for them except tell them stories, show them her curiosities and treasures, and listen to their perplexities; and they were not in the least fond of another auntie, whose money was spent freely for them. She bought them new dresses and bonnets, sent the boys on vacation trips, and often took the girls to see pictures and hear fine music, yet they did not love her.

The aunt who did so much that was kind had a habit of constantly snubbing her nieces and nephews. If they made a mistake, she spoke of it publicly. If a reproof was given, it was in the severest terms. Her face wore a frown most of the time, and she made everybody around her uncomfortable. And so, though her poor heart was hungry for affection, she got only a crumb of it, while the happy, merry, fun-loving auntie had a whole feast.

Many of you are taking piano lessons. If you are in company, and are asked to play, consent without waiting to be coaxed. If you intend to sing your new song, or perform your last piece, you will do so gracefully by beginning at once without persuasion. If you must decline, let it be because you feel that you do not play well enough to give pleasure to the listeners. Do not, of all things, say, with a little toss of the head and pout of the lips, "I can not play on any piano but my own." That is very ungracious as well as ungraceful, and besides, like most impoliteness, it hurts the feelings of others.

When you have a friend to entertain, let nothing that you do for him or her appear to give you trouble. Keep your difficulties out of sight, and let only the pleasant things come to the front. Watch mamma when she has guests, and you will observe that she never makes a fuss, nor seems to be in a flutter, and still she takes care of them, consults their wishes, and forgets nothing which can add to their happiness while under her roof.

You will learn how to do it, whatever _it_ may stand for, by imitating your mother. Don't you think so?

* * * * *

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to the article on "Egyptian History," and to "A River Gets Into Trouble," by Charles Barnard. The boys will be specially interested in an article on "Homing Pigeons," by Mr. C. W. Fisher.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

FIVE EASY DIAMONDS.

1.--1. A letter. 2. Part of a fish. 3. A finger. 4. A point. 5. A letter.

2.--1. A letter. 2. A small cushion. 3. Relating to ships. 4. A boy's name. 5. A letter.

3.--1. A letter. 2. A plug. 3. Savory. 4. A trap. 5. A letter.

4.--1. A letter. 2. To caress. 3. Purport. 4. Fashion. 5. A letter.

SUNSHADE.

5.--1. A letter. 2. Not young. 3. Glitter. 4. Parched. 5. A letter.

S. X.

* * * * *

No. 2.

1. A monkey. 2. A pronoun. 3. To bind. 4. Cunning. 5. A month. 6. A girl's name. 7. A color. 8. Sick. 9. To discover. 10. Timid. 11. A falsehood. 12. A period of time. Centrals spell the name of an important city of the United States.

LAURA and BEZETTE.

* * * * *

No. 3.

DOUBLE ACROSTIC.

1. To kill. 2. Part of the dress of a Roman citizen. 3. Frugal. 4. To complete. 5. To dissolve. Primals and finals compose the name of a pleasure-boat.

EDGAR B.

* * * * *

No. 4.

ENIGMA.

My first is one hundred. My second is nothing. My third is twice yourself. My fourth is fifty. My whole is a monk's hood.

W. C. L.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 144.

No. 1.

H oo F
A rn O
R ea R
T oa D

No. 2.

S A I D
A L T O
I T E M
D O M E

P A T O W L T U B
A I R W Y E U S E
T R Y L E T B E E

No. 3.

V
H O G
V O W E L
G E T
L

No. 4.

Toby Tyler. Tower of Babel.

* * * * *

Answer to Pictorial Puzzle on page 656--Skipper, Beetle, Walking-stick, Spider, Cricket.

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Josephine Chesley, Charlie Schilling, "Eureka," A. B. Sinclair, Mary B. Breed, Lulie, Howard O. Smith, John Wallis Clearman, "Sunshade," May Worthington, "I. Scycle," "Ed. U. Cation," James Tipton, Harry Johnston, Arthur Slade, Royal Thompson, Van Dyke Forester, E. G. F., Maggie Simmons, "Fuss and Feathers," Isabella Niven, Richard Winn Courts, Effie R., Kate Marshall, Lillie Clark, Carrie E. Howard, John A. Staats, Walter Brainerd, Eddie S. Hequembourg, Philip McLaun, H. Van Horn, D. C. Wolcott, "Fidelie," Addie and Arthur S., Maggie and Rosa B., Alice Comstock, M. F., J. Payson, Hugh McIntosh, Ada Wheeler, Rosa R., Jack, Fred Smith, and "Bright-Eyes."

* * * * *

[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]

Take the moon from out the sky,
And the same then so apply
That you will see what this saucy puss
Is giving to her cousin Gus.

* * * * *

ORIGINAL RIDDLE.

I am older than the Pyramids, yet continually made new. In infancy I am of a cold disposition, but in youth am heated with passion, and I then usually acquire a permanent blush. My composition is very peculiar: I am made up of the head of an insect and the tail of an alligator joined to an organ, a sea, and part of a monkey. If the insect is exchanged for a vegetable, I may hurt you; if it is replaced by a Chinese plant, I may deceive you. I am found in the homes of the poor and humble, in the palaces of princes, in the temples of religion, and in the low places of the earth. I have assisted in the worship of the true God, and in the extravagant rites of the heathen. I often support insignificant and contemptible undertakings, yet I once took part in the most ambitions and presumptuous enterprise of mankind. Usually peaceful in disposition, I have caused the death of rioters, and once excited a mighty rebellion. Though used to rough treatment at the hands of ignorant men, I am highly esteemed and much sought for by learned scholars. By my aid rivers are spanned, tunnels strengthened, prisoners held in captivity, and iron industries rendered possible; without me, many would lose their livelihood, and London would be desolate. Finally, I am most useful when in bed.

* * * * *

DON.

Don was a retriever that could never be taught to retrieve. A great romp of a fellow, jet black, relieved by a single white star on his throat.

Don is excessively fond of sweets and fruit, notably ripe gooseberries, of which his master grows some fine varieties. During the season a great quantity of ripe, yellow fruit disappeared from the bushes, but no one could discover the thief; at the same time, however, it was noticed that Don's nose was always covered with scratches. His master put two and two together, and resolved to watch the dog. He did so, and saw Don go toward a door in the garden wall, stand on his hind-legs, and press down the latch with his fore-paw.

The door yielded, and in went Don to feast on the yellow gooseberries. He scratched his nose in the operation, but evidently thought the fruit worth suffering for.

The same dog occasionally paid visits with his master, and one lady, knowing his liking for sweets, always gave Don a piece of cake when she offered it, with wine, to her guest.

It happened, however, on a single occasion that the lady's stock of cake was almost exhausted. The piece she had was small and somewhat stale, too shabby to offer to a gentleman; so the wine was brought out alone.

Don's master took no notice of this, but Don, after looking expectant for some time, marched to the lady, placed his great paws on her knee, and cast imploring glances toward the side-board. When this failed, he went to the door and tried to open it.

He was only scolded for scratching it, and in despair of making himself understood, he took advantage of the open house door, and set off home as fast as he could go.

After he was gone, the lady expressed her surprise at Don's unusual conduct. The master smiled, and said the dog had not forgotten that she usually gave him cake, and had been trying to make her understand that when wine was brought out for the master, _his_ share of the dainties ought also to be forth-coming.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, August 22, 1882, by Various