Chapter II: Part 2

It was not half a minute after that her quick ear caught a cry. She sprang up and listened. This time it was a louder one, and so full of terror that, without stopping to think, Pink ran toward the sound with all her might. She was swift-footed, and she minded little a tumble over the wall and a scramble through the blackberry bushes that could bring her by a short-cut into the lane. One sharp, loud whistle brought the great dog Shepherd to her side, and when Laura's third cry, hoarse and sobbing, escaped her lips, she saw the pink dress, as it seemed to her, flying through the air at her as though the wind blew it forward. "It's the ugly cow!--oh, it's the ugly cow!" panted Pink.

"Help! help!" cried Laura, faintly, as she ran on, wild with fright.

Pink seized her firmly, for the angry cow, tossing her horns sullenly, was plunging too near for escape. Using all her strength, she pushed Laura flat behind a great rock, the only shelter at hand, and quick as a flash had seized a stick and turned with Shepherd to face the cow.

Brave Shepherd was not afraid of anything; his little mistress had never been afraid either. They divided between them the honor of routing the enemy, and Pink hardly knew herself how it had been done, as she threw a stone after the clumsy heels of the beast that Shepherd still chased with angry barks, and then half lifted, half led Laura to the nearest stile. Laura herself, between the fright and the running, was quite exhausted, and could only get home with Pink's patient help.

When Laura had been laid on a lounge, and revived with camphor, she began eagerly to describe her adventure. She told of Pink's rescuing her in such words of praise that all the child could do was to stand still, her cheeks getting all the time more and more of a pink.

"Why, you brave, brave child!" cried Laura's mother, taking her hand, as Laura went on.

"Oh, you noble little Pink!" chorussed the girls, kissing her with enthusiasm.

"But my name is not Pink," said the child, trying to cover her hot cheeks; "my name is only Dolly Brown, and it wasn't me; it was Shep."

"Yes, it was you too, little Pink--I mean Dolly Brown," cried Laura, as willful as ever now that the faintness was gone; "and you shall be my best friend forever after--so there! and I shall write to Florence, and Ethel, and all the rest, and tell them so this very night. You're a perfect hero-wine, and you've saved my life, just like a book."

"There is no mistake about it, the name of Pink just fits her," said the older sisters to each other, "with her pink and white complexion, and her sweet, prim little mouth, and her dainty ways."

Laura took delight in conducting her new favorite all over the house and premises. Pink trod timidly on the soft rugs that half disguised the floors; caught her breath over the rose-bud chintzes covering easy-chairs and quaint couches, or falling as curtains; touched awe-struck the piano, the pictures, and trinkets. Laura was half pleased and half surprised to see her so impressed.

It was not until a rainy day came that Laura found time to show Pink her most personal possessions. Then she strewed her room with countless pretty things that she had herself packed--her box of ribbons, her pet books, some of last year's Christmas presents, her new locket, her box of paints, her ivory brushes, her painted fan, the souvenirs she brought from Cuba last winter, the long white feather for her summer hat, the needles which she used in doing her pretty fancy-work, their patterns and crewels.

"Oh, what a quantity of things!" cried Pink; "are they all yours?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Laura; "everything in this trunk is my own, very own property, and next time I come to your house I want you to show me yours."

When Pink went home she looked soberly round, and surveyed everything by a new standard. The little house was clean, but it was bare. It contained things to live with, that was all; none of the lovely useless things to which Laura had always been accustomed; none of the separate possessions in which she abounded. Pink could not think what she in her turn was to produce and show to Laura as her own property. By this time Laura knew all about the strawberry patch in which Pink gloried, because it was bearing this year for the first time; all about the flower garden alongside of it, where mignonette, hollyhock, cockscomb, and marigold were flourishing so brightly. She knew about the pine parlor up in the wood, where Pink loved to play by the hour, and the birch bower with moss cushions, where vines had been trained, and where Pink liked to learn her lessons, or read the _Pilgrim's Progress_. She knew where Pink found cresses by the brook, her favorite places for picking berries, and many of the spots where particular favorites among the wild flowers always waited for Pink to come and get them. But, after all, none of these places belonged, as her property, solely to Pink.

"And my tame robin died last fall," mused Pink, "and my lamb grew so large he had to be sold. But I know--oh, I do know, after all."

Pink clapped her hands softly; she had arrived at the answer to her question. She opened the corner cupboard, and took down the darling of her heart--an old sugar bowl, fat, low, and also appropriately pink.

"You dear old thing! I haven't looked at you for ever so long," said Pink.

Nobody knew, so Pink's mother said, how old this sugar bowl might be. It had been in the family when great-grandmother Brown was a little girl, and they called it old then. It had come down through the Aldens. Grandmother Brown was an Alden.

"It's no great for beauty," Mrs. Brown had said, when Pink was a little thing. "I'll give it to you, Dolly, and you may keep it for your own."

And Dolly had been ever since proud and happy to claim it. It had always been beautiful in her eyes from the very days of her babyhood, when, at rare intervals, her mother rewarded her for being a good girl with one of the square lumps of white sugar hoarded in its bulging sides.

"Yes, I know Laura will like to see this," remarked Pink, in a satisfied tone, "and I hope she'll come to-morrow."

Laura did come to-morrow; and when, with innocent glee, her friend paraded before her the old pink sugar bowl, which she dignified by the name of her "property," somehow a lump rose in the spoiled child's throat that kept her silent. Suddenly a vision of the countless costly things she herself owned rose up before her. She had been proud of them, perhaps, but never really grateful, as now she began to see. She had fretted at any imperfections in them, and complained in the midst of them if her will was disregarded, as, for instance, about coming into the country for this summer. She stood abashed before the little pink sugar bowl, and its owner with her happy, satisfied smile. She began for the first time to understand the wise things her mother often said to her lately about being contented with such as we have.

Pink was sure that Laura had been suitably impressed by the sugar bowl, and she felt entirely pleased with the effect it had produced upon her. It pleased her still more when, after a few days, Laura asked to borrow the sugar bowl to show to her mother.

When Laura had told the story of Pink's property it had touched the heart of the soft-hearted mother as well as the child herself, and she had said, "I should like to see the sugar bowl myself."

Laura's father looked it over carefully. "This could really be turned into property," he pronounced, "for it is a valuable ancient piece; and if your little friend would like to sell it, I can find a buyer for her."

At first Pink could not find it in her heart to sell the keepsake she had been so fond of; but mother Brown reasoned with her, and father Brown said, shrewdly, "Sugar's just as good to us out of any other bowl, Dolly; and with the money, don't you see, you can buy things you would have to go without, and maybe lay up a mite besides." So the sugar bowl never came back to its place in the corner cupboard, but, true-hearted as Dolly was, she really never missed it, for its place was more than filled.

Laura, her sisters, and her mother, having begun to love the sweet-natured, healthy Pink, pleased themselves with heaping up the cup that had thought itself quite full before. They were always finding a pretext for bestowing some fair and fit gift upon her. The skillful fingers of Laura's sisters even shaped for her a white dress like Laura's own, and they said that it was well worth while to take a little trouble for the sake of seeing real gratitude for once.

When the frosts came, Pink's friends returned to the city. But the marvels of that surprising season were not yet all told. The little house under the hill was closed, and Pink's father moved up into the homestead to take charge of everything there until summer should come again.

"I want Pink to have my room, and take care of it," Laura had said. And it was from the window of Laura's room, with Laura's books left in it for her use, Laura's canary chirping in its cage, and Laura's gifts about her, that Pink watched for the last wave of her friend's handkerchief as the carriage disappeared.

"The dear! Anyhow, she has more now than one old sugar bowl for property," said Laura, sinking back after the final glimpse of Pink's bright face.

"She is one of the people that are naturally rich," her mother added, "in having for her property a sunny, healthy content, and a happy, humble disposition. We shall all be glad to see her when she comes for her visit by-and-by. A spirit like hers brings its own welcome wherever it goes."

SPICE.

BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.

He was nothing but a little yellow dog to the world at large, yet Harry and Edith Farr regarded him as the greatest treasure they possessed. His very name indicated the gentleness of his nature, as his entire lack of any snappish qualities had required that this deficiency should be made up in the matter of christening him, and Spicebox had never since given cause to have anything dropped from that name except the last syllable.

He was, as has been said, yellow, and his curling, silky hair was soft as flax, with "silver threads among the gold" about the neck and breast. His liquid brown eyes were "just too sweet," as Edith declared, while his inquisitive little nose, although not as black as it should be for beauty, was nevertheless eloquent with expression; and his tail, mere stub of a one as it was, did duty for a whole alphabet of sign language between Master Spice and his owners.

But space fails me to further describe the charms of this wonderful dog, who was as good as he was beautiful, and whose skill in leaping over canes and umbrellas was only equalled by the firmness with which he sat up on his hind-legs and held a penny on his nose.

At the time of which I write, the children--Harry was eleven and Edith nine--had owned Spice for two years, and in all that period he was never known to snap or snarl at man or beast. Growl he frequently did when a stray cat or a wandering dog chanced to cross his path, but this was never in malice--only for fun; and although he was once laid up for a day and a half from the wounds inflicted by a quarrelsome tabby, Edith is convinced that he never even attempted to bite back.

He slept every night at the foot of Harry's bed, had his little bowl of water (with a piece of yellow sulphur in it) in the corner, and in one compartment of Edith's bureau was a stock of ribbons of all colors and widths, designed to increase doggie's natural attractions on festive occasions.

One of these latter occurred on a bright day in the spring, when the Townsend family, the Fans' next-door neighbors, came over to lunch.

There were four of them: the mother, a pale, sickly lady, who only went out on pleasant days; Win, a tall youth of fifteen; Clara, the only daughter, and of Edith's age; and last, but by no means least, the baby, who was still so young that his first name was not yet decided upon, but who nevertheless fairly ruled the great house next door.

Well, this sunshiny day in the spring was Saturday, so the children on both sides of the hedge had plenty of time to visit and receive, and while the two ladies remained in the sitting-room with the French nurse and the American baby, Harry and Clara, Edith and Win, flew up and down the garden, playing colors, I-spy, and tag, with Spice at their heels barking furiously, little thinking of the tragic scenes in which he was soon to become the principal actor.

When lunch was announced, Mrs. Farr, Mrs. Townsend, and the four young people gathered about the well-spread table, while nurse, Baby Townsend, and Spice kept one another company in the sitting-room.

It must be confessed that the latter was not overpleased at the arrangement, but as Harry had told him to stay, and as he was a very obedient little dog, he determined to do as he was bid with the best possible grace, so he meekly allowed Baby to rub his coat the wrong way, pull his hair, and twist his tail to its little heart's content.

"Marie! Marie!" Mrs. Townsend's voice was suddenly heard calling from the dining-room, and in response the French nurse hastened to ascertain her lady's commands, leaving Baby in his corner on the sofa, where he had been securely fenced in by his careful mamma.

Now all that Mrs. Townsend wanted of Marie was to ask her if she was positive that the French word for ink was of the feminine gender, and in that instant's absence of the faithful maid something awful happened; for she had scarcely returned to the sitting-room, when she gave a piercing scream that at once brought everybody from the table, some with napkins pinned around their necks, others flourishing knives and forks in their hands, and all endeavoring to swallow as quickly as possible whatever they happened to have in their mouths.

And what a sight they saw! Baby Townsend lay back among his pillows, serenely sucking the middle finger of his left hand, which was bleeding, and the blood was spreading itself over the infant's face in a manner shocking to behold, while Spice sat gravely by looking on with curious eyes, and the French nurse stood wringing her hands in helpless horror.

For a moment they all stood as if rooted to the carpet, and then Mrs. Townsend, with one hand snatching up her baby, and with the other pointing to Spice, cried, "There! that dog did it, and he'll--that is, my child will--oh!" and the poor lady began to cry hysterically, while Edith rushed to gather up Spice in her arms, and Harry hastened to make an examination of the accused.

"See, Mrs. Townsend," he exclaimed; "there's not a particle of blood about his mouth. Besides, you all know Spice--our Spice. Why, he--"

"But how, then, came Baby in this condition? You can see for yourself there wasn't a thing within his reach by which he could have cut himself."

"Perhaps he bit his finger," Harry then ventured to suggest, which idea was greeted by as near an approach to a smile as the tragic nature of the circumstances would permit, as Mrs. Farr reminded her son of the fact that the child was scarcely four months old.

"No, I see no help for it, sorry as I am, and good friend to Spice as I've always been," continued Mrs. Townsend; "but hydrophobia, you know, is now so bad, and my nerves are still so weak, that really Win must bring over his gun and--"

"Shoot Spice?" cried both the Farr children in a breath, while their mother hastened to put forth every possible plea in his behalf.

But the harder Mrs. Farr begged for mercy to the dog, the more determined did Mrs. Townsend become that he ought to die; and between the firm, vehement demands of one family and the tearful, urgent pleadings of the other, the noise in the room became so loud and confused that Baby began to cry, and Spice to bark.

In vain Harry quoted newspaper paragraphs to the effect that Scotch terriers were seldom or never known to go mad; useless were Edith's affirmations that she was sure Spice had not so much as sniffed at the baby; and all for naught went Mrs. Farr's entreaties that they would at least stay proceedings until the gentlemen came home at night. Mrs. Townsend was resolved, and Win went over the hedge in triumph to bring his gun, but presently came back, rather crest-fallen and empty-handed, to say that his father must have locked it up in the wardrobe, and carried off the key.

In that case there was nothing to do but wait until that gentleman returned from the city; so the Townsends filed out of the Farrs' front door and into their own in a dignified procession, Mrs. Townsend having first bound over Mrs. Farr by a solemn promise not to allow Spice to leave the grounds.

Ah, how long that dreadful afternoon lived in the Farr children's memory! To know that their own dear little doggie was to die would have been bad enough, but to feel that he was to be shot as a criminal for an act so terrible, that--that was too hard, and Edith's tears fell fast, while even Harry was obliged to wink persistently in order to keep his own cheeks dry.

As for Spice, he had never seemed so gay and full of life, frisking lightly about the children whenever Edith's trembling hands would let him go, and twirling himself round and round so swiftly as to fairly make one dizzy to behold.

When Mrs. Townsend observed this, she had taken it as a sign of hopeless depravity, but to Harry it was a convincing proof that Spice had not done the deed charged to him.

"You know, Edith," he would say, over and over again, "how he hangs his head, puts his tail between his legs, and tries to slink away whenever he's done wrong, and I'm sure he knows it isn't proper to bite Mrs. Townsend's baby. Oh, why did she ever bring it over here?" and Harry groaned dismally as he realized the impossibility of bringing their neighbor to look at the affair in the light he did.

Well, the time of respite passed all too quickly away, and when Mr. Farr came home at six, the case was laid before him in all its bearings; but what could he do?

"You've no positive proof that Spice did _not_ bite the baby," he said, when Harry and Edith called upon him to avenge them of their wrongs, "whereas Mrs. Townsend thinks she has pretty sure evidence that her baby was bitten. Besides--" But just then the door-bell rang, and Mr. Townsend and Win were ushered in, the latter carrying a gun, at sight of which Edith first shuddered, and then began to cry.

After a few words with Mr. Farr, Mr. Townsend suggested that, as it was a cruel duty he had come to perform, they had better go through with it as quickly as possible; so a rope was produced, tied to the dog's collar, and then, having received a last tearful embrace from each one in the family, Spice was led out into the back yard by their neighbor, Win following close behind with the gun.

Mrs. Farr at once stuffed her ears with cotton; her husband went to the furthest corner of the library, and took down the most absorbing book he could find; Harry fled to his room in the third story, and Edith buried her face in the sofa cushions; while the girls in the kitchen clattered tin pans about at a terrific rate for a few moments, and then, frightened at their own noise, stopped to listen.

For five minutes there was a dead silence both inside the house and out, when suddenly Edith screamed loud and long, and leaping up from the lounge, rushed out into the yard, wildly waving a pair of button-hole scissors covered with blood.

"Stop! stop! oh, stop!" she cried. "The baby cut himself with these. Oh, Spice! Spice!" and running to the clothes-line post, to which the poor little fellow had been tied, she fell down beside him and sobbed for joy.

When matters were all made clear, it seemed that Edith, in her misery, had pushed and worked her hand down the back of the sofa, felt the scissors, and on drawing them forth, noticed the blood on them, and then it flashed across her mind that it was Baby Townsend's blood, and that he must have wriggled his hand down behind the cushions in the same way.

Mrs. Townsend was quickly summoned, the discovery explained to her, and on examining closely the cut in Baby's finger, the innocence of Spice was fully established.

Win made haste to put away his gun, and the little yellow dog enjoys life to this day.

BARRANQUILLA, UNITED STATES OF COLOMBIA.

Many of my correspondents have asked me for a little description of
my country and of the tropic zone. I have been thinking that I can
answer them all at once by writing another letter.

We live eleven degrees north latitude from the equator, near the
mouth of the Magdalena River. It is very hot here, and the medium
temperature in the dry season is 85°; in the rainy season it is
higher. The dry season begins in November, and lasts till April;
through this month we have rain, and the next month we expect it
every day, and so onward. Many of the inhabitants are Indians, and
about one-fifth of the population are negroes. The people in our
city and in most places are divided into six classes. To the first
or highest class belong the educated white people; and to the
lowest, those folks who wear all the year only one pair of
breeches or one dress, no shirt, and no shoes. Poor boys under
four and five years wear no clothing, but they learn how to smoke.

The water in the river is so warm all the year that people can
bathe in it at any time.

The huts of the Indians are made of sticks, and covered with a
kind of reed. Our doors and windows are kept open the whole day,
and at night we have nets around our beds to keep the mosquitoes
off. As we have great and continuous heat, with abundant moisture,
we have a wonderful richness and variety of vegetation. Blooming
flowers and trees can be seen all the year. We have
cocoa-nut-trees, bananas, pine-apples, sugar-cane, oranges,
lemons, mangoes, coffee, cotton, tobacco, and cinchona-trees. In
the sand of the river gold is sometimes found.

Birds, insects, and reptiles are remarkable for their variety and
brilliancy. We have one bird with seven distinct colors in its
plumage; and indeed the birds, from the parrot to the tiny
humming-bird, are so nicely dressed that I can not describe them.

All kinds of snakes, from the boa to the viper, are found here.
There is one green snake which climbs the trees, and looks
precisely like the branches and leaves.

The woods in the interior are full of monkeys, and if disturbed in
their sleep, they howl the night long.

A beautiful butterfly with blue wings is the most wonderful
creature I ever saw. As you turn it around it changes to other
lovely tints.

It is not unhealthy here. The laborers and the women cooks on
their way to market ride on donkeys, for the streets are too sandy
to walk in with ease.

JUDITH W.

We think Miss Judith ought to be accepted as a member of our Natural History Society. Her letter shows that she has learned to observe what is around her, and only people who do this are ever really well informed.

* * * * *

GEORGETOWN, KENTUCKY.

This is my first letter to YOUNG PEOPLE. Mamma gave the paper to me
for a birthday present, and papa gave me a pony. One of my
playmates and myself mount him, and we make him lope as fast as
ever he can. Mamma took me not long ago to the Blue Lick Spring.
When she told me I was going I was perfectly delighted. My cousin
and I got a whole lot of very beautiful stones there. I am nine
years old, and read in the Fourth Reader, and study arithmetic,
spelling, and geography.

SAMMIE M. G.

Is it not almost too much for that willing little pony to carry two boys at once? It would be a better way to take turns, and let one ride at a time, especially as you love to go so very fast.

* * * * *

CHESLEY PLACE, SLICKAWAY, KENTUCKY.

I thought I would write and tell that little girl who wanted to
know some games how we play out here in Kentucky. We have great fun
hiding the switch, and the one who finds it chases the rest till we
touch base, which is a big tree. We go wading in the creek, and
Paul has a ferry-boat, like those which ply between New York and
Jersey City, only ever so much smaller. It holds nothing but our
wee dolls for passengers, and the animals in Noah's ark. We play
hide-and-seek with our dolls, and Nina and I take them out riding
in their carriages. Nurse walks along with baby Lucy in her
carriage, and Paul on his velocipede goes in front, and so we have
a grand procession. We have our own little gardens, and raise
vegetables, which we sell to mamma.

When I read Fairley C.'s letter it seemed as if she were talking
about me, for I have two little sisters and one brother, and I too
am nine years old. We love our home in the country, and if I were
not so tired, I could tell you of more things we do.

CICELY DE G. MCC.

* * * * *

WILLOW CREEK, CLAY COUNTY, IOWA.

I am thirteen years of age, and live in the north-western part of
Iowa, on the big prairies. I live on a farm, and we have eleven
head of horses and thirty-three head of cattle. We milk six cows
this summer. I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since March 22, 1881, and it
is the best paper for young readers I ever saw. I liked all I read
of "Toby Tyler" very much, but I did not take the paper at the time
the story began, and so I had to imagine that part. The Post-office
Box is splendid. It gives us a chance to hear from young people all
over the world.

L. A. U.

* * * * *

OSBORN, GREEN COUNTY, OHIO.

I am ten years old, and this is my first attempt at writing a
letter to YOUNG PEOPLE. I am at home during vacation, and I
scarcely know how to amuse myself. I read YOUNG PEOPLE with much
pleasure, and when through with that I enjoy magnifying flowers. I
have a small microscope. If you never looked through one, you have
no idea how beautiful some of the flowers are. I love to hear from
the little letter-writers in our Post-office Box.

LORA L. L.

* * * * *

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I live with my cousin, and I go to school. We have a dog named
Fergus. He likes to play with a ball, and if any one tries to take
it from him, he growls. I like "The Cruise of the 'Ghost'" very
much. I think it was a shame to kill Toby Tyler's Mr. Stubbs. We
have a little garden at the end of our yard, and have had ripe
strawberries and peas. I like the Post-office Box better than any
other part of the paper.

CHARLES FRANCIS N.

* * * * *

Please, Mr. Editor, would you mind publishing another letter from
me? I have received so many letters and leaves that I am afraid I
have not replied to every correspondent, for _several forgot to
send their address_. Sadie H. was one of these. I hope I sent every
one stamps enough; but having so many requests, I had to divide
them as equally as I could.

GERTIE ROLIN, Redmyre, Sydney,
New South Wales, Australia.

* * * * *

ELK CITY, KANSAS.

I was thirteen on the 5th of June. I have every number of the
second volume of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. The river has been rising
here. Yesterday some people had hard work to get out of their
houses, the flood rose so rapidly. I often wish that I lived on the
sea-shore, so that I might get shells. We have none here.

MARY W.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

About two weeks ago the other boy wrote you a letter saying that we
were about to start a club named N. Y. S. and M. E. As you have not
yet printed it, I wish you would not print it, for I did not know
anything about it. He told me to sign my name on a piece of paper.
That's how I came to sign it.

H. G.

Your postal card was something of a puzzle, as we have not received a letter from "the other boy." But we want to tell you, and every young reader, never to sign your name to any piece of writing that you have not read, and which you do not fully understand. A boy's name stands for himself, and signing it to any document pledges him to do what the document requires. A great many foolish and thoughtless grown persons get into trouble by doing this very thing. We wish the little girls would make a special note of this, and in fact it would be a good plan for you all to write out a resolution in this way, "I will never sign my name to a paper that I have not read," and then pin it fast to the pincushion, or tack it up over the mantel. It is very important to form the habit of being particular about this.

* * * * *

QUINCY, ILLINOIS.

I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE since the first number. I don't know how
I could do without it. I thought Toby Tyler was perfectly splendid.
I was real sorry for him. I am twelve years old, and attend school,
and am learning French and music. I take lessons in both of these
studies at home, but next year I shall study German at school. I
wrote once before, and my letter went into your waste-basket. I
_hope_ this will not be treated so. I have a little pet dog. He is
as cute as he can be. I will write some time and tell you some of
his funny tricks. I have tried many of the receipts for candy, and
they were splendid.

GRACIE.

* * * * *

POUGHKEEPSIE, NEW YORK.

I want to tell you about a parrot I have. He is a little more than
a year old, and can talk a great deal. I have a black cat and a
white one. The white puss is afraid of Polly, but the black one
puts his paw through the wires of the cage, and taps the parrot's
head. In return Polly gives him a bite, which makes him squeal. The
name of the black cat is Heliogabalus. We call him Heli for short.

ADÈLE I.

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LA CRESCENT, HOUSTON COUNTY, MINNESOTA.

My aunt Abbie sent HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE to my brother Aaron for a
Christmas gift. I think "Toby Tyler" was real nice. I have written
twice before, and sent a charade, but I suppose that there were so
many other letters that mine could not find room. I have two
sisters, Abbie and Fannie, and two brothers, Aaron and Warren.
Warren is a baby. He had a twin brother, Willet, but he died when he
was only five months old. I send an anagram, and will tell how to
get the answer. First take a couplet or stanza of poetry, or some
great man's name, and mix the letters up every way, and then let
the reader arrange them so as to find out the verse or the name.

A. C. B.

Your little anagram is in the puzzle department.

* * * * *

LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY.

I like this paper so much that my little sister and I are always
impatient for Friday to come, for on that day our friend YOUNG
PEOPLE arrives. I don't think you ever saw the programme for a
concert printed in raised letters, did you? Well, I attended a
delightful concert where all who took part were pupils in our
Institution for the Blind, except the organist and the lady who
played the piano. The programmes were in raised letters, for the
blind read by the sense of touch. The building is very complete,
and quite large. The grounds are very spacious and beautiful. The
pupils make the chairs and mattresses which are used in the
institution. They print the books also, and the Superintendent
makes the maps. Mr. H---- is very nice. He knows how to make boys
happy. Kentucky is proud of this institution.

HENRY P.

* * * * *

HOT CREEK, NEVADA.

I am a little girl, too small to read our paper when it comes, but
grandma reads it to my brother Clayton and myself. She read "Toby
Tyler" to us, and even papa was interested in it. We live in
Belmont, Nevada, but are staying this summer at this place. It is a
long narrow cañon several miles in length, almost all over green
meadow, forming a strange contrast to the high rocky mountains. We
have some boiling springs here, and you can see the hot water
bubbling up to the surface from somewhere below--I often wonder
where. We have plenty of Indians here, and I have a little pappoose
to play with, who swings me in the hammock. I was born in San
Francisco, but have lived most of my life in Nevada, and know
nothing of the beautiful world beyond, except what mamma and
grandma tell me, and what I see in pictures. You may know that we
miss the papers terribly when they do not come, as sometimes
happens. Mamma takes the MAGAZINE and BAZAR as well as YOUNG
PEOPLE, which we all enjoy. I shall watch very anxiously to see
whether you will print my little letter.

MINNIE H. W.

Some of our little correspondents are troubled because they do not see their letters in Our Post-office Box, and they express a fear lest they are lost or thrown into the waste-basket. Now, dear boys and girls, set your minds at rest. As we have already said, the editor does not own such a thing as a waste-basket for the Post-office Box. All the little letters are read, and those which can not be published are put away carefully, and your names and homes and little messages are remembered. If the Post-office Box should crowd out the stories and poems and beautiful pictures, and the doleful experiences of Jimmy Brown, you would not enjoy YOUNG PEOPLE nearly so much, would you?

We have told exchangers again and again that their requests can not be printed the next week after we receive them. They necessarily have to wait several weeks before they can be published. It is hardly a month since we said this the last time, yet some of you write as though you were quite vexed at our delay. Please be patient. And if you send your exchange a second or a third time before we can possibly print it, then be sure to say in your letter that you have sent it before.

* * * * *

MARLBOROUGH, NEW YORK.

Some time ago, in your Post-office Box, I saw a letter from a
little girl offering to exchange fifty stamps for an Indian
arrow-head. I sent her a very nice one, and wrote at the same time;
but I waited two weeks, and no stamps came. Then I wrote again, and
asked her either to return the arrow-head or send the stamps. This
was about two weeks ago, and I have heard nothing from her. What
can I do in this case? It can not be because I have not sent my
address, for I was very careful to put it on both letters. I did
not think any child would be mean enough to keep anything without
sending an equivalent; but I can see no other reason for it.

MARGARET NEILSON ARMSTRONG.

The little girl may be ill, or there may be illness in her family, or she may be absent from home. Nothing is more provoking than a delay of this kind, but we still think you will hear from her. After waiting a little longer, it will do no harm for you to write again.

* * * * *

There is a picture of a baby sitting in an arm-chair, and under it
is printed the word "Bashful," in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 86, page 532.
Now when I got my paper I saw this picture. I was so surprised that
I ran and showed it to mamma. Now I will tell you why. That picture
is the born image of our little baby Edna, and when we all looked
at it, mamma told me to write and tell you of it. She is two years
old, her hair is curly, and that picture is a perfect likeness of
her. She'll go through a dozen little tricks for a piece of "pu"
(pie). Please print this for her sake, and perhaps she'll have a
few kisses to spare when she goes to Franklin Square.

She often puts her hand on her eye when mamma brings her a bottle
of medicine.

"CURLY HEAD."

* * * * *

NORTHWOOD, IOWA.

I have a cousin who resides in Minneapolis, and she sailed on the
18th of June for Great Britain and the Continent. She takes the
eighty days' tour, and will be on the Rhine one day. Next fall,
when she returns, she will tell me about her trip; but if I had
been a little older I could have gone with her, which would have
been lovely. My monthly average at school last year was never below
94.

RUSH C. B.

* * * * *

Please take notice that A. and A. B. Green, Jun., are not the same
people; so when I send an exchange, and A. B. sends an exchange,
they are not from the same person.

ASHBEL GREEN, JUN.,
Englewood, N. J.

* * * * *

The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:

An old penny, for an Indian arrow-head or a Florida bean.

AMELIA BRINK, Marshall, Mich.

* * * * *

A collection of ninety-five stamps (all foreign, some duplicates)
in good condition, and a tiny piece of wood from the Mount of
Olives, in exchange for a nice, clean sketch-book. Correspondents
will please write and state size of book, etc.

EFFIE K. PRICE, Bellefontaine, Ohio.

* * * * *

Minerals, for foreign stamps.

P. H. MAYER,
214 East Fifty-seventh St., New York City.

* * * * *

French and English stamps, for flower seeds. Please send lists and
exchange letters before the seeds are mailed.

ANNIE D. FERREE,
3514 Spring Garden St., Philadelphia, Penn.

* * * * *

Petrified stones, and gypsum, for minerals, specimens of wood, and
stamps from any country except England, Canada, or the United
States.

HENRY HOLT, Lockport, N. Y.

* * * * *

Two German stamps, for ten postmarks; also two French stamps, for
ten postmarks.

B. L., Box 339, Newton, Mass.

* * * * *

Minerals, fossils, ferns, and soil, for coins, stamps, postmarks,
sand, ore, and ocean curiosities. Correspondents will please label
specimens.

RUTH SARAH COLLIN,
Mount Vernon, Linn Co., Iowa.

* * * * *

Twelve foreign stamps, all different, for the United States issue
of 1869, blue and brown, 15-cent; or twenty-five stamps, for the
24-cent, violet and green; and fifty stamps, for the same issue
90-cent, black and carmine. The stamps I offer are all different,
some very rare--Japan, Egypt, Cape of Good Hope, Philippine
Islands, etc.

HORACE F. HUTCHINSON,
55 Endicott St., Salem, Mass.

* * * * *

Shadow pictures and foreign stamps, for curiosities suitable for a
cabinet. Correspondents will please write before sending articles.

G. S. JENKS, 173 Lake St., Chicago, Ill.

* * * * *

I wish to exchange a large and perfect Indian axe for a bound
volume of HARPER'S WEEKLY, in good order, for 1872; a bound volume
of _Leslie's Popular Monthly_, in perfect condition, for the first
volume of _Uncivilized Races of the World_, sheep binding, and in
fair order. Also the bound volumes of the _National Repository_ for
1879, for HARPER'S WEEKLY, bound, and in good order, for 1876.
Please write me before sending books.

JASPER BLINES,
Alexandria, Clark Co., Mo.

* * * * *

My stock of star-fish is exhausted. Agates, sea-shells, and
postmarks, for beetles and insects.

D. C. WYMAN, Eureka, Humboldt Co., Cal.

* * * * *

Lead ore, for iron or gold ore, or white crystals. Crystals
especially desired.

SUSIE HUNTINGTON, Sedalia, Pettis Co., Mo.

* * * * *

The ears of the Jack or mule-eared rabbit, for second-hand boys'
books, small biographies or natural histories. Abbot's _Life of
Washington_ preferred.

C. R. LACY, Hutchins, Dallas Co., Texas.

* * * * *

Chinese copper and Japanese silver coins, for any other foreign
coins. I have three kinds of Japanese and five kinds of Chinese
coins.

GEORGE C. CODDING,
Petaluma, Sonoma Co., Cal.

* * * * *

Fifty foreign stamps, for a triangular Cape of Good Hope, Natal,
Cabool, Cashmere, Feejee, Philippine, Ceylon, Mauritius,
Mozambique, Free Town, or 96-cent Hong-Kong, Central American, or
Chinese or Japanese coins.

P. O. Box 138,
Mamaroneck, Westchester Co., N. Y.

* * * * *

The _Life of General Israel Putnam_ or _Sandford and Merton_, for
an international postage stamp album that has been but little used.

HARRY WADLEIGH,
Montoursville, Lycoming Co., Penn.

* * * * *

A stone from Ohio, for one from any other State or Territory.

LYON CAUGHEY,
Seville, Medina Co., Ohio.

* * * * *

Postmarks, for newspapers. Fifteen postmarks, all fine, no
duplicates, select list, for one newspaper. Common list, twenty
postmarks, for one newspaper.

W. E. DUNSETT,
Norwood, Hamilton Co., Ohio.

* * * * *

Foreign stamps and postmarks, for the same; and bluestone, used for
telegraph batteries, for a three-cornered Cape of Good Hope stamp
or petrified wood.

FRED H. W. SOUTHEIMER,
121 West Forty-first St., New York City.

[_For other exchanges, see third page of cover._]

* * * * *

N. K. C.--It is not a good plan to have too many irons in the fire at once, and so we think it best to postpone your plan until cooler weather.

* * * * *

C. H. B.--Your enigma is a good one, but it came too late for use this year.

* * * * *

RALEIGH.--"Art is long, and time is fleeting." There are a great many departments in art, and very many artists are known for conscientious and beautiful work; but if we were to name a single one in either hemisphere as the greatest, we would be unjust to a host of others.

* * * * *

EMILIE.--It is not a _nom de plume_.

* * * * *

BICYCLING.

C. A. PERLEY AND ALVAH S. HUBBARD.--Your questions are answered by the advertisements on the last page of the cover.

* * * * *

GUY H. WOOD.--A Horsman bicycle, No. 15, diameter of front wheel thirty-six inches, and costing $25, will probably suit you.

FRANK RIGGS.--A _good_ bicycle for a boy of your size can not be bought for the sum you name. A bicycle to fit you should have a front wheel of forty-two inches in diameter. Read the advertisements on the cover of YOUNG PEOPLE, send to the addresses given for circulars and for addresses of Chicago agents, from whom you can gain all desired information.

WILLIE CHAPMAN.--Go to 791 Fifth Avenue, New York city, and there you will probably find the "excellent bicycle" for which you inquire.

FRANCES DUNHAM.--I do not know of a good tricycle for young girls. The only one made in this country that would suit a girl of nine years is advertised in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 87, and I fear that with this machine it would be impossible to ride any distance over country roads, as it is only intended for pavements or smooth walks. Very light and beautiful tricycles are made in England for girls of fifteen years of age and upward; but none are manufactured in this country.

Most of the inquiries received thus far have been for cheap bicycles, and where to obtain them. To these the answer is, there are no _cheap_ bicycles. All good bicycles are expensive, and a poor bicycle is dear at any price. Small bicycles, with wooden spokes and rims, are just as good to learn to ride on as the best that are made, and on a smooth level surface they can be made to work very nicely. As the rider grows older, and gains experience, he naturally desires a better machine, and then he finds that instead of from $10 to $20, the cost of a machine such as he wants is from $50 to $100. This he regards as an imposition, and at once begins a search for cheaper bicycles. But he will not find them at present, nor for some time to come. For this there are several reasons. One is that all existing bicycle patents in this country have been acquired by one firm, which therefore enjoys a monopoly. Another reason is that the bicycle is still something new, and the sale for it is comparatively small, so that the manufacturer must make large profits to balance small sales. Then, too, the machinery for making bicycles is very expensive, the material used in making them must be the best, and the workmanship upon them the most skilled. All these things combine to make the bicycle an expensive luxury, and such it will always remain, though in course of time prices will be much less than they are now.

"THE CAPTAIN."

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from _A. E. Cressingham_, "School-Boy," _Bennie Stockwell_, Emilie Douglass, Willie D. Grier, Day Z., Robert N. Fuller, and Jemima Beeston.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

DIAMONDS.

1. 1. A letter. 2. A household implement. 3. A heavenly body. 4. A favorite. 5. A letter.

2. 1. A letter. 2. Not young. 3. A vessel. 4. An animal. 5. A letter.

H. E. D.

* * * * *

No. 2.

ENIGMA.

My first is in mouse, but is never in rat.
My second in dog, but never in cat.
My third is in animal, never in fish.
My fourth is in vessel, and never in dish.
My fifth is in monkey, and not in giraffe.
My whole is a thing 'tis convenient to have.

F. A. B.

* * * * *

No. 3.

ANAGRAM.

Yb mhraem dan nhda lal tras od tdsna.

A. C. B.

* * * * *

No. 4.

WORD SQUARES.

1. To approach. 2. Spoken. 3. Armor. 4. A girl's name.

1. A river in Spain. 2. A temptation. 3. A disorderly tumult. 4. A boy's name.

R. R. F.

* * * * *

No. 5.

ZIGZAGS.

1 * * *
* 2 * *
* * 3 *
* * * 4
* * 5 *
* 6 * *
7 * * *
* 8 * *
* * 9 *
* * * 10

Across.--1. A string. 2. Without light. 3. A vehicle. 4. A snare. 5. Level. 6. A particle. 7. An animal. 8. Color. 9. A mineral. 10. A plant.

Zigzags.--A mountain range in Europe.

R. R. F.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 87.

No. 1.

Guadalquivir.

No. 2.

1. Necessity is the mother of invention.

2. Nothing ventured, nothing won.

3. Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.

No. 3.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

No. 4.

S A R D E T N A
A G U E T H E N
R U D E N E A T
D E E R A N T S

D I M E R O M P
I D O L O V E R
M O S S M E T E
E L S E P R E Y

* * * * *

OUR NEW SERIAL.

In No. 92 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE issued August 2, will appear the first chapter of a new serial story entitled

TIM AND TIP;

Or,

THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY AND A DOG.

By JAMES OTIS, author of "Toby Tyler."

The story of "Tim and Tip" is that of a homeless boy and his faithful dog, who follows him in all his wanderings, and shares in all his adventures. It is full of incident on land and water, and those readers who followed with such kindly interest the fortunes of Toby Tyler and Mr. Stubbs, the monkey, will, we feel sure, sympathize equally with our new hero and his four-footed companion.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.

SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, one year, $7.00--_payable in advance, postage free_.

The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in November of each year.

Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the Number issued after the receipt of the order.

Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY-ORDER OR DRAFT, to avoid risk of loss.

HARPER & BROTHERS,
Franklin Square, N. Y.

THE WIDOW MACHREE.

In making the Widow Machree, first procure a daisy, and with a pair of sharp scissors trim off the petals, except two, as in Fig. 1; then with a pen and ink mark on the yellow centre the face of an old woman, as in Fig. 2. Trace off Fig. 3 on a piece of stiff card-board, and finish it as represented in the drawing; cut it out all around down to the dotted line, and bend it from there so as to leave the figure standing upright when finished. Then cut a hole in the neck as represented. Put the stem of the daisy through this hole, and fasten it behind, as in Fig. 4, by gumming a small strip of paper over it. Take a pin, cut it in two, and on the pointed edge place the bowl of the pipe, cut from the end of a match, as in Fig. 5. Then put it into the mouth of the figure, or daisy face, and Widow Machree is complete, as in Fig. 6.

A SIMPLE CAMP-BED.

From _Camp Life in the Woods_. Harper & Brothers. Just out.