Chapter II: Part 2

It would be impossible to enumerate the mistakes which a young photographer will make. The only way is to profit by them, and not make the same one a second time. Many boys who get a photographic outfit are disgusted with it, after one or two trials, because they can not make as good a picture as a professional photographer. The principal causes of failure can, however, be enumerated as follows:

1. Imperfectly darkened operating-room, which will make the picture dim or "foggy."

2. Dust in the dark room, unfiltered chemicals or washing water, which will make pinholes in the negative.

3. Over or under exposure, which will either make the negative too black or too thin to print successfully. This last, however, is excusable in the young beginner.

Finally, boys are apt to be careless. A crack in the door of the operating-room, a bottle left uncorked to collect the dust, dirt or dust on the hands, a little more of this solution or a little less of that, they think would make no difference. Photography requires accuracy and cleanliness, and no one can hope to take a satisfactory picture unless he will cultivate these qualities.

If any boy or girl--and girls, as a general rule, make better amateur photographers than boys--thinks to learn amateur photography for "fun," I should say to him or her, emphatically, Don't. But to any one who has a sincere love for the beautiful in nature, and who is willing to _work_ to obtain lasting mementos of the scenes which are dear to him, a photographic outfit may become a source of never-ending pleasure.

WHAT A GEORGIA BOY FOUND WHILE FISHING.

One day several years ago a Georgia boy went fishing. He started for a creek that ran not far from his home; but as he knew there were few fish in it except small cat-fish, he probably did not expect to return with a very well-filled basket. Most boys, however, know how to get a good deal of pleasure out of a day's fishing, even if the fish are small and bite slowly.

Taking his lines and hooks, this Georgia boy went to the creek, and there sat down to dig for bait with his pocket-knife. In digging, he turned up a curious and pretty pebble which attracted his attention. Wiping the earth from it, he found it to be semi-transparent, and about the color of the flame of a wood fire. As he turned it around, it reflected the light in a peculiar way which interested the boy, and so, instead of throwing the pebble away, he put it into his pocket.

As he had never seen a stone of the kind, he showed it to a good many persons as a curiosity in a small way, and after a while he came to value it about as a boy values a marble of the kind called real agate.

On one occasion he showed his pretty stone to a visitor from Cincinnati, who seemed even more interested in it than others had been. This gentleman examined the pebble again and again, and finally asked permission to take it to Cincinnati with him to show to some one there. Not long afterward the gentleman returned, and told the lad that his "pretty stone" was worth a good many thousands of dollars. It was, in fact, what is called a fire opal, a very precious stone, specimens of which are so very scarce and costly that jewellers can not afford to make use of them. The few that have been found since Humboldt carried specimens to Europe have been eagerly bought at enormous prices for the great museums.

When the parents of the Georgia boy learned the nature and value of his discovery they had the stone sent to Europe, and sold to advantage. The sum received for it was quite a little fortune.

I have never heard how many fish the boy caught, but I am very sure that he can not complain of his luck on that day.

Since that time a good many opals have been found in the region in which the boy dug for bait, and among them one or two small fire opals, but none equal in value to his. Some efforts have been made to search the region thoroughly, and to work it as an opal mine. There is a great difference in opals, but when they are really beautiful their value is very large. For an opal in the museum at Venice $250,000 was offered without success. Marc Antony is said to have sent a Roman Senator into exile because he would not sell him an opal ring for which he had paid nearly a million of dollars.

"POPSEY."

BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.

This was the name Walter Radlow's father had requested should be given the gray donkey which he presented to his son on the latter's thirteenth birthday.

"You see, I was at my wits' end what to buy," he afterward explained; "for a dozen birthdays, to say nothing of as many Christmases, had about exhausted my genius for discovering something new, and I was beginning to think I'd have to start all over again with a rattle, when the idea of a donkey and cart popped into my head."

So Popsey was the donkey, and the donkey was Walter's, and--such a donkey! Not one of your meek, spiritless animals, "warranted gentle with ladies and children," that you must beat to make go, and simply cease beating to stop.

Ah, no; Popsey, though not wild or vicious, was full of life, which was just what Walter delighted in; and as Mrs. Radlow had satisfied herself that the beast was really too small to do any serious damage, she ceased to worry about his "playfulness."

But it was not long before Popsey became so attached to his young master that it was thought perfectly safe to allow two-year-old Amy the privilege of a ride now and then, from which she returned in a very mixed state of mind as to whether she wanted to tell papa about Popsey, or Popsey about papa.

One Saturday, about three months after Popsey's advent, Walter's cousins came over from Wallingville to make him a visit. They were the children of Mr. Radlow's only brother, and Helen was fourteen, May twelve, and Jack ten.

They arrived about nine in the morning, to find Walter just recovering from an attack of rheumatism, and suffering from such a raging toothache that he could scarcely bear to speak.

"But don't mind me," he said, as they all gathered about him to condole and bemoan. "When you come from town to the country for the first time in years, and for such a short stay, too, you mustn't stick in the house just because a chap can't go round with you to-- Oh!" and poor Walter suddenly dashed his head down against the hop pillow on the lounge, while the girls sympathetically exclaimed, "Too bad!" and Jack looked as if he was afraid it might be "catching."

But in a moment or two Walter bobbed up again to say, "There's the croquet set and archery, tennis and--Popsey."

"Oh yes; that's the donkey, you know," eagerly interrupted Jack. "And, oh, Walter, did you say we might drive him?"

"Of course. I guess Helen can manage the fellow. And, by-the-way, you might take the cart and drive over to the Hillwins'. Fred's got a prime book about middies I've wanted to read ever since Christmas, and if you'll borrow it for me, I think it'll make me forget this--" And the boy expressively ended his sentence by another plunge into the depths of his hop pillow.

When the plan was first mentioned to her, Mrs. Radlow was inclined to doubt Helen's ability to deal with Popsey's peculiarities. Though docile enough with Walter, he might prove troublesome to a stranger.

"But, Aunt Jennie, don't you remember how I drove when we were all up in the mountains one summer? And, besides, you know you wrote to mamma that Popsey was so small that you never worried about the children being out with him."

As this last argument of Helen's could not very well be answered, the coachman was ordered to harness up.

When the cart was brought to the door, and the three visitors prepared to crowd themselves into it, a great outcry was made by Amy, who shouted, "Me too! me too!" so often and so shrilly that, for the sake of securing quiet in the house for Walter, Mrs. Radlow at last consented to let her go.

"I'll hold her on my lap just as tight," pleaded May, "and Jack can stand up behind."

And so it was arranged, and Amy's face, which had been all drawn down for a good cry, wrinkled up into a laugh instead.

Then Popsey was petted and patted, endearingly addressed as "Good donkey," and called upon times innumerable to "whoa" when he had not thought of stirring, after which preliminaries the girls got in, Amy was handed over to them, and Jack climbed up behind.

"Drive around to the front lawn, so Walter can see you," said Mrs. Radlow, when all was ready for a start, whereupon Helen chirped to her steed, and guided him over the grass opposite the second-story window, at which appeared a black head and white pillow, one of which was nodded gayly, and the other waved on high, the two to be suddenly clapped together again in a fashion, that caused Helen to give Popsey a touch of the whip, and speed off after the "prime book about middies."

"Oh, isn't he just too cunning!" exclaimed May, as the little donkey trotted along, with his big load, as steadily as a family horse.

Amy crowed with delight; Helen made a great show of flourishing her whip (taking good care, however, to keep it out of range of Popsey's long ears), while Jack pranced about behind in genuine boyish joy. The road was easy enough to follow, and inside of three-quarters of an hour Helen drew up before the Hillwins' gate. Their house was the only one within sight, and just beyond it two or three roads crossed one another in quite a confusing manner.

"It's lucky we haven't any further to go, Helen," remarked May, as she noted the latter fact, "for we'd surely become mixed, and-- But I declare, if Amy isn't fast asleep in my arms! Poor dear, the ride's been too long for her, I guess. You go in, Helen, and I'll sit perfectly still so as not to wake her. Don't be long, though."

Jack was already out and standing at Popsey's head, but no sooner had her elder sister vanished from sight under the long grape arbor that led to the house, than May suddenly discovered that she was terribly thirsty.

"Oh, Jack," she cried, "I must go in and get a drink; but I don't want to wake baby, and make her cross, perhaps; so I'll just put her down here in the bottom of the cart on the seat cushion. I'll be back in a minute or two; but mind, keep a tight hold on the donkey, and if Amy wakes up, talk to her till I come."

Jack answered "All right," May jumped down to hurry off after Helen, and then there was no sound to break the country stillness but the autumn wind, as it whirled the dead leaves to the ground, and the rumble of a train as it rushed along the track down by the river.

As it happened, Fred Hillwin was not at home, or he most certainly would have come out to inspect Popsey and keep Jack company. As for Fanny, she was so overjoyed at the unexpected call from her old school friends, that for about five minutes she could do nothing but give expression to her delight. Then the book Walter wanted had to be hunted up, all of which together consumed a good deal of time, the delay seeming especially prolonged to Jack, who soon grew tired of gazing at the top of baby's cap between Popsey's ears, and longed for some more exciting occupation. The donkey stood as if glued to the spot, and Amy slept on as peacefully as if in her little crib at home.

Suddenly the noon-day quiet was broken in upon by the blast of a horn, accompanied by the quick trot of horses' feet.

"A circus, perhaps!" exclaimed Jack; but, alas! whatever it was, nothing could be seen from where he stood, for the sound came from the turnpike just beyond the cross-roads before mentioned.

"Oh, how I would like to see what it is!" sighed the boy. Then he quickly measured with his eye the distance he would have to run, saw that Popsey seemed perfectly stationary, and with a sudden impulse dashed off to the corner, arriving just in time to behold a four-in-hand coach rush by like the wind.

It had scarcely passed him, however, when it stopped with an abruptness that threatened to pitch the passengers on ahead of it.

"What can be the matter?" thought Jack, and with all a boy's curiosity he ran on down the road to find out.

It seemed that one of the "leaders" had stumbled and fallen, and consequently been stepped on by the "wheelers," which resulted in such an entanglement of horses and harness as Jack had never seen before.

With wide-open eyes he looked on at the efforts of the gentlemen to straighten things out, and was about to ask if he could help them, when suddenly, with a cry of "Oh, Popsey--and the baby!" he tore back to the Hillwins' gate, and found the donkey-cart--gone.

With a terrible fear in his heart, the thoughtless boy gave one despairing look around him, and then started off on a run, in the direction in which Popsey had been headed, after a black speck just visible in the distance.

Two minutes later Helen and May came hurrying down the long walk through the garden, provoked with themselves at having staid so long.

"I do hope Amy hasn't waked up," said May; "but I told Jack in case she should-- Why, where are they?"

"Perhaps Jack's driven down the road a little," suggested Helen.

But a hurried glance in both directions soon convinced the girls that the donkey-cart was nowhere near, and they were both beginning to feel a dread of they knew not what, when all at once May exclaimed, "Oh, Helen, look! here comes Jack now, and _without Popsey_!"

In great excitement the sisters ran to meet him, and imagine their horror when, with a voice all broken with sobs, he cried: "Oh! oh! it was only a--a peddler's wagon, and I ran nearly a mile to catch it, and--and now I don't know where to look, because Popsey's run off with the baby!"

Terrified beyond description at the thought of the danger that threatened their aunt's pet, who had been so reluctantly committed to their charge, the girls commanded Jack to tell them instantly just how it had all happened, which he did with teeth-chattering from fright, and repeated assertions that he had believed Popsey was asleep.

"But didn't I tell you not to stir?--and oh, Helen, it's partly my fault too, for if I hadn't been so foolish as to leave Amy, she--" Here May broke down completely, and leaving her and Jack in tears together, Helen flew back to the house, and soon returned with Mrs. Hillwin, Fanny, the maid, and the cook. Then she pointed out the three roads it was possible the donkey had taken, and burst out crying herself.

"An' shure, miss, don't give way so," said the cook, cheeringly, "but jist take yer stand at the cross-roads beyant, an' ask ivery person that comes along--an' precious few do it be in this wild region, bad luck to it!--ef they're afther seein' a donkey runnin' off wid a baby."

This sensible suggestion was at once acted upon, and while the rest all hurried off in the direction of a turnip-field, which the maid declared Popsey must have sniffed, Helen stood at the junction of the three roads until a pleasant-faced old gentleman in a buggy approached her.

"Oh, sir," she cried, rushing up dangerously close to the wheels, "did you meet a runaway donkey-cart?"

"No, not I," was the answer; and the gentleman repressed a smile, but suddenly grew quite grave as he drew rein and asked if the donkey's name was Popsey.

"Oh, yes, yes," exclaimed Helen. "And have you seen him?"

"No, but I am going to see his owner now, and if you will get in, I will take you along with me. I am the family doctor, and am quite well acquainted with Popsey."

Hardly knowing what she did, but feeling that any sort of motion or action was better than waiting in suspense, Helen accepted the invitation, and began at once to pour forth her tale of grief to the kindly old physician, upon hearing which he whipped up his horse, saying that he was sure no harm had come to Amy.

Then Helen suddenly recollected how she had deserted her post, and was filled with a foreboding lest some one should pass the cross-roads who might know something about the donkey-cart, and there would be no one there to question him.

"Here comes Mr. Radlow's coachman now," exclaimed the doctor, when they had nearly reached their destination, "and driving at a furious rate. I warrant it's turned out just as I expected;" and with the words he signaled to the man to stop.

"Yes, yes, exactly as I imagined," said the physician, when the coachman had hurriedly and excitedly explained that Popsey had come trotting back to the stable with the lines about his heels, and baby Amy crowing joyously in the bottom of the cart, and that in consequence Mrs. Radlow was in a great state of fright concerning the fate of the cousins.

"Well, I'll soon relieve her fears on that score; and do you, Dennis, drive on toward the cross-roads with your carriage as fast as ever you can, and bring the other two children back."

As for Helen, she had not yet recovered from her joyful surprise.

"To think," she exclaimed, "that that donkey should have turned deliberately around and walked off home, nearly four miles, without upsetting anything, while we were looking for him in every other direction! There certainly never was such a dear little animal. But that doesn't excuse Jack's thoughtlessness, and I'm going to give Aunt Jennie leave to punish him _very severely_."

However, when the case was laid before the doctor, he declared that as the fault lay really with so many persons, and that as the three cousins had suffered sufficiently already from anxiety and suspense, the blame should be changed to praise, and that given to Popsey, who had displayed a disposition to execute the errand upon which he had been sent as speedily as possible.

Good-morning, little bird;
I wish you'd sing for me;
You look as if 'twere fun to live
Out-doors so wild and free.

I've brought Matilda Jane
Because she needs the air;
She is a very pretty child,
With lovely curling hair.

How many little birds
Are flying round to-day!
Now surely you will stay with me
When I've come here to play?

Oh, you have children three,
And they, perhaps, have stirred;
Well, if they need you, hurry home.
Good-morning, little bird.

OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.

NEW YORK CITY.

I thought I would write to you about my little bird Billie. He is a
canary of the German breed, and is rather long and slim, but he
sings very sweetly. I think he is the smartest and most intelligent
bird I ever saw outside of a show. I taught him myself to stand on
my finger whenever I put my hand in his cage; and he knows when I
speak to him, for when I call to him, he will turn his head toward
me, as if to say, "What?" I used to make him seesaw on a little
stick with his little companion John, who was blind nearly all his
life, which was very short; and then I would make him hold a little
gun, and balance himself on a ball which I would keep in motion. He
would stand on a little cart, and hold the reins with one claw,
while I drew him around the room, with John, held in a
market-basket, sitting on behind. He seldom tries to fly away, and
I have frequently taken him out-doors in my hands, without fear of
his escaping. Sometimes, for a change, I used to let him swing like
a paroquet in one of my bangles. This I do not think he liked much,
for his tail was so long it was hard for him to keep his balance.
But the most difficult thing that I taught him to do was to lie on
his back and pretend he was asleep. I would lay him down gently,
and after kicking his feet, and trying to grasp my fingers, he
would lie perfectly still until I touched him, when he would jump
up; and then I would have him kiss me, which he can do nicely,
moving his bill all the time. I should like to tell you about John,
who died, we think, on account of his eyes, which, after we had had
him a little time, became covered with white mists, which we think
were cataracts.

A STRONG FRIEND OF
"HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE".

It would be interesting to hear of your method in teaching your pet so many pretty tricks. I suppose you were very gentle and patient, and that you taught him one thing perfectly before letting him begin upon another.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON, D. C.

I, like Virginie C. B., am practicing a few of the gymnastics
mentioned in No. 118. We have a bar across one of our doorways a
foot from the top, which I catch hold of and swing by. I can not
draw my chin up to it yet, but can come very near it. After the
Postmistress has assured us she has seen Jimmy Brown, his stories
are much more interesting to me, for they must be the experiences
of a real boy. We always laugh at them, they are so funny.

My sister has been all over the establishment of Harper & Brothers,
and saw them printing YOUNG PEOPLE. I should like to see that, and
hope to some time. I think it was Augusta C. who did not like cats.
She would not change her mind if she saw our cat, for that lazy
animal is awake all night and asleep all day. We have had no less
than six cats during the past year. "The Talking Leaves" excited us
very much, and I think it was splendid. Toby Tyler is a very nice
little boy, I think, and when I first glanced at the picture of the
circus coming in, I thought they were taking him away again.

We have some flowers in our back yard, and we like them very much.
The seeds are just coming up, and I take great interest in watching
them. We have some very pretty pansies, roses, and bridal-wreaths.
They are blooming now. I brought some wild flowers from the woods,
and my sister brought some violets; they are growing very nicely.
We have but one geranium, and its blooms are shrivelled. I do not
know what to do to it.

I like to write stories very much, and I love dearly to draw
pictures. Last Tuesday was very warm, and you would have thought it
was summer if you had suddenly been transported to Washington.

EMILY N.

Perhaps your geranium needs rest. Try the plan of pinching off every bud for the next few weeks. The soil may need enriching, or you may have watered it too freely.

* * * * *

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I have written to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE three times, and none of my
letters have been printed; but I believe in perseverance, so I am
going to try again. I have never read any paper I liked half as
well as HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. Papa gets it for me, and I read it
to my little brother. One night I was reading "Tim and Tip" to him,
and I happened to look up, and he was crying. He didn't want me to
think he was crying, so he said, "It's only the water that comes
out of my eyes." I like Jimmy Brown's stories very much. I think
all of the stories in the paper are very interesting. Jimmy Brown
and Georgie Hackett seem to possess about the same qualities. My
favorite study in school is history.

EMMA.

I do not know Georgie Hackett, but poor Jimmy is certainly an interesting boy, though I would not care to have him living at my house, unless he could behave better than he now does. Perseverance is an excellent quality. You could not have a better motto than

"If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again."

* * * * *

SANBORN, DAKOTA TERRITORY.

I am a little English girl eight years old, and hope to see this
letter printed, to please dear papa, as he does not know I am going
to write. I have taken HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE two years (ever since
we left England), and have never written before. I have an Indian
pony, on which I ride about; her name is Frances. My brother Jack
has one called Charlie. I have a little sister Mabel; she is six,
and so fat that mamma calls her Pumpkin. She calls me her fairy
lily. I have seen Jumbo in England, and am glad he has come to
America. Papa says some time I may see him again. I am very fond of
reading. I have lots of books, and my grandma sends me _Little
Folks_ every month. I have been learning music for a year, and am
getting on nicely. We find lovely flowers about here, and I gather
mamma lovely bunches for the table every day. Good-by.

KATIE S.

* * * * *

JUNCTION, IDAHO.

I am a little boy seven years old. I take HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE,
and I like it very much. I think "Toby Tyler" and "Mr. Stubbs's
Brother" are the best of all. Blue Ribbon has a little kitten; she
is teaching it to walk. I have a horse; his name is Old Indian. The
reason I call him Old Indian is because we bought him of the
Indians. I have some nice rides on him. We live on a ranch, and
have lots of little calves and little chickens. I do not go to
school, but study my lessons at home. I send one dollar for Young
People's Cot.

OLIVER T. C.

Your contribution has been sent to the lady who receives and takes care of the money for Young People's Cot. Is Blue Ribbon the little kitten's mother? I hope Old Indian is a gentle pony. From his name I should think he might be quite fiery.

* * * * *

"PAPA, WHAT MAKES THE RAIN COME?"

Mabel and Ethel can't write for themselves, and they do not know
that I am writing to the Post-office Box to tell other little girls
about them. What here follows is not a made-up story; it is set
down almost word for word as it was spoken. The girls were in their
little beds, talking about different things, and papa was sitting
at the table reading a book by the light of the lamp. Thunder was
heard in the distance, and Ethel remarked that the rain was coming.
This led Mabel to ask the question which forms the title of this
letter, "Papa, what makes the rain come?"

While thinking about the best way to make her understand the
wonderful and beautiful natural process--how the sun draws up
vapors from land and sea, and stores the treasures of rain in the
clouds, returning them in showers of blessings upon the
earth--Ethel broke in with her views, thus relieving me of a
difficulty. So I kept quiet as a mouse, and listened while
pretending to read. Ethel, half raising herself in bed, thus
explained:

"Why, Mabel, I will tell you what makes the rain come. You see, God
is up there above the clouds, and He has wings, and flies from
place to place, all over. Then, you know, He has a pump, with a big
deep well, with lots, oh! lots of water in it, and on the pump
there is a rubber tube, with a sprinkler fastened to it. And then
He pumps, and pumps, and pumps, and the angels they pump, and the
water comes, and spurtles, and spurtles, and spurtles, and
spurtles, and spurtles, and spurtles; and that's what makes the
rain come."

These were the child's thoughts and expressions on the beautiful
phenomena of the rain. The explanation seemed sufficient and
satisfactory, as both little thinkers forthwith resigned themselves
into the loving arms of "tired nature's sweet restorer," and were
carried far away into the happy land of dreams.

F. J. T.
FARMINGTON, MINNESOTA.

* * * * *

CHURCHVILLE, MARYLAND.

As the day is rainy, we have been looking over HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, and seeing so many nice letters in Our Post-office Box. I
thought, by way of variety, I would send one from Harford County. I
have two sisters. One is a teacher, and she is going to read some
pieces out of your paper to the children in her school.

We have a colt named Pinafore. The other day I turned another
horse, with a halter on, into the same field with him. Pin caught
the halter in his mouth, and led him about as he had seen us do. I
have a Scotch terrier dog named Jack. I hitch him to a little
wagon, and he is better trained than the speckled pig in No. 132.

I think your paper is just splendid, but like to read "Mr. Stubbs's
Brother" the best of all. I went to see Jumbo in Baltimore.

FRANK B.

* * * * *

OUR BABY BOY.

Oh, he's so sweet,
The darling thing!
On his small feet
We kisses fling.

He plays, he crows,
Can laugh and sing,
And thinks he knows
'Most everything.

He goes to bed
So sweet at night;
You'll hear his tread
Soon as 'tis light.

He plays, you know.
The whole day through,
And he can blow
His trumpet new.

All places round,
No sweeter toy
Than this is found--
Our baby boy.

DAISY M. (aged 9.)
DAVENPORT, IOWA.

* * * * *

BAYFIELD, WISCONSIN.

I am thirteen years old, and have a little adopted sister, whose
name is Elsie, and whom I love just as much as if she were my own
sister. She is seven years old. I wish the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE
could see my canary-bird. His name is Jim. I often let him out of
his cage, and sometimes he comes hopping up to me, and then he will
chirp until I give him a piece of apple or orange.

I am very fond of reading. I have just finished a book called
_Zigzag Journeys in Europe_, and I enjoyed it very much. Our house
is a square from Lake Superior. We can stand at any window and look
right out on the lake. Bayfield is a great summer resort for
invalids and pleasure-seekers. Very nearly all the large steamboats
come here. From Bayfield we can also see five of the Apostle
Islands.

SUSIE P.

Would it not be nice if we could have all the cunning and beautiful pets our little friends write about arranged together in a great exhibition? As this is impossible, we must try to see each of them from the pretty pen pictures their little owners send.

* * * * *

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am nine years old. Last Easter mamma gave me HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE as a present. I am delighted with it, and reading those
letters written by the young folks has put me in the notion of
telling you something of myself. I go to school in West
Philadelphia. Mamma thought the ride out there would be good for my
health. I am obliged to start at eight o'clock, and I get home at
two. I eat my dinner, learn my lessons, and then I am ready for
play, which I enjoy greatly. I have neither brother nor sister, but
I have several little friends. I have two velocipedes. Mamma gave
me one when I was only four years old; it has three wheels; I call
it my little clipper. The other has four wheels; I call it my
propeller. I have a set of garden tools. I tell you I play hard
until tea-time; then I get ready for tea. By eight o'clock I am
quite ready for bed, as I have to get up at six. Sometimes I take a
little ride before breakfast on my velocipede, or play with my pet
cat, which I call Charlie, after papa. Mamma says she intends to
turn over a new leaf, and have me black my own boots in the
morning, and promises if I do it for two weeks she will make me a
present of a nice blacking-box like papa's.

G. W. H.

* * * * *

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI.

I am seven years old. I have a little brother five and a dear
little sister two years old. I go to school, and my brother goes to
the kindergarten. I will tell you how my little sister said her
prayers last night. She said, "God bless mamma and papa, and our
dear, dear kittie cat. Amen." We thought it was so cute. I envy the
little boys who live in the country. I have never been out of the
city, but hope to go for all the summer. This is the first letter I
have ever written.

LUCAS N.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I want to tell you of my pets. I have a little pug dog; his name is
Punch. I have such fun with him, he is so playful. Then I have two
canary-birds, and their names are Sweet and Top-knot. And I have a
little kitten; her name is Betty; mamma named her.

I take music lessons, and go to school, and also attend a riding
school twice a week. I like HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I
think "Toby Tyler," "The Little Dolls' Dressmaker," and "Mr.
Stubbs's Brother" are tiptop. Good-night.

BERTHA E. F.

* * * * *

The Postmistress has pleasure in inviting the attention of boys to the following request:

The boys at this place having organized a social club, desire to
have their secretary open a correspondence with the secretaries of
other and similar clubs of boys. Persons interested will please
address for further information,

W. T. FRANKLIN,
82 East Jersey St., Elizabeth, N. J.

* * * * *

MOTT HAVEN, NEW YORK.

I am a little girl nine years old. I have five dollies; their names
are Katie, Jessie, Jemima, Daisy, and Ella. I have had Jemima eight
years. I have a bedstead, and a carriage in which, on fine days, I
take them out riding. I also have a trunk, and lots of other
things. I have never been to school, and only began to write one
year ago last February, and I hope you will be able to read this
letter.

AGGIE L. S. S.

I suppose Jemima is the favorite of the five dollies, as you have had her almost all your life. You write very well indeed.

* * * * *

SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND.

Our grandma sends us HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, which we find very
interesting. We are Americans. We came here partly for our
education, but mostly for our health. I am almost fourteen. I
thought I would write to the Post-office Box, and tell you what I
have seen. We have been to Netley Abbey, which is a very ancient
ruin; it is over eleven centuries old. We have visited Netley
Hospital. While we were there we saw a number of soldiers come in
from the Zulu war. The hospital is a very fine building. We have
also been to Romsey Abbey, and we saw there a plait of hair which
is supposed to be a thousand years old. We have been to Winchester
Cathedral, and saw many ancient tombs. We went to the New Forest,
and saw the place where William Rufus was killed.

F. B. M.

You have a very pleasant opportunity to study English history, and you must write to the Post-office Box again, and tell us more about the places you visit.

* * * * *

I read the letters in the Post-office Box every week. I study
geography, spelling, arithmetic, writing, and Latin. I have gone to
school here for almost ten months. I have had a nice black and
white rabbit for almost a year. I will try to get some wild ones
this spring, and tame them. Some of us boys take our dinners out in
the woods on Saturdays, and have a splendid time. In cold weather
we build a fire.

I will give a book entitled _Tel Tyler at School_, 750 mixed
foreign stamps, several foreign postal cards, a piece of petrified
honey-comb, two shells from St. Augustine, Florida, and a pebble
from Amsterdam, New York, for sixty stamps from Alsace-Lorraine,
Angola, Antigua, Azores, Bolivia, Bermuda, British Honduras,
Ceylon, Chili, Costa Rica, Dominica, Ecuador, Guatemala, Honduras,
Ionian Isles, Labuan, Lagos, Liberia, Malta, Nevis, Nicaragua,
Orange States, Paraguay, Persia, Salvador, San Marino, Shanghai,
St. Lucia, Trinidad, and Virgin Isles. Stamps must be in good
condition.

CHARLES L. HOLLINGSHEAD,
Care Rev. R. K. Todd, Woodstock, Ill.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

AN INDIAN ELEPHANT.--Some of you have been very much interested in Jumbo and his enormous appetite. A traveller who engaged an elephant to carry him over a part of India during a journey which occupied some weeks, gives this account of the elephant's food, and of the care which he received while on the march: Every day he was fed with cakes composed of flour, ghee (which is clarified butter), and coarse salt. Twenty-five pounds of flour were mixed and baked, and one-half the quantity was given to the elephant in the morning, and the other in the evening. Besides these cakes, he ate freely of the leaves and branches of trees. Each morning he would go with his mahout, or driver, into the jungle, and there he would choose and pick the branches he liked best, loading them on his back, and taking the supply home to the camp. There was a kind of marshy grass which he considered a very choice dessert. When a person engages an elephant, he of course engages the mahout as well. The mahout usually takes his wife and children with him, as it takes several people to keep an elephant comfortable. Every morning and evening he must have his bath, and before beginning the day's march his forehead, ears, paws, and every part of his body likely to be cracked with the sun must be greased. When the party comes to a halt, the elephant's heavy trappings are always taken off, and he is allowed to rest under a spreading tree. When an elephant does not feel well, he makes a pill for himself without saying a word to the doctor. With his trunk he rolls up a ball or two of red earth, and swallows it, just as naturally as pussy, when her head aches, scampers off to the catnip bed, and takes a dose of her favorite herb.

* * * * *

MYRTLE.--I think a Shakspeare club such as you and your girl friends have organized must be both pleasant and instructive. Instead of so many stories, dear, let me persuade you to read books of travel which will give you an idea of the world we live in; and when you tire of them, and want a change, try history. The books you mention are too exciting and highly wrought to be good reading for you at present. I think you would find Sir Walter Scott's "Lady of the Lake" and "Marmion" very fascinating, and Miss Strickland's _Queens of England_ would keep you delightfully occupied all summer.

* * * * *

TOM H.--Sir Richard Whittington, the hero of the tale of _Whittington and His Cat_, was born about 1354, in Gloucestershire, England. He was not a beggar boy, but belonged to a good family. When less than ten years old he was sent to London to be a little apprentice. From step to step he rose, until he became a great merchant, and finally Lord Mayor of London. Very likely he did send his cat away on one of his employer's ships to clear the vessel of rats and mice, and it would not be at all strange if he sometimes fancied he heard the sweet tones of the Bow-Bells calling to him

"Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London."

Few boys become successful men without ambition. It is a good thing to mean to be somebody one of these days. But doing well is better than dreaming. The lad who works with all his might at whatever he begins, never slighting any duty until it is done, will be sure to make a useful and honored man. Now, as I have preached my little sermon, let me tell you some of the noble things Dick Whittington did. He caused a conduit, or pipe, of water to be put on tap in the wall of St. Giles's church, thus making a drinking fountain five hundred years ago very much like those we have now. He built the Guildhall Library in 1419. He repaired hospitals, and did a great deal of good among the poor and the sick, and was very kind to children. He died in 1423.

* * * * *

We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. this week to the article entitled "Handel and 'The Messiah,'" by Mrs. John Lillie, to "Oiling the Waves," and to "Photography and Work." In the latter Mr. Allan Forman endeavors to point out to young amateur photographers the way to overcome some of the difficulties that are likely to attend their earlier efforts. We hope that no one who has procured an outfit will become discouraged or induced by a few failures in the beginning to abandon this delightful and improving pastime, which has recently become so popular.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

TWO ENIGMAS.

1.

My first is in rope, but not in string.
My second is in throw, but not in fling.
My third is in rill, but not in brook.
My fourth is in glance, but not in look.
My fifth is in lance, but not in dart.
My sixth is in tremble, but not in start.
My seventh is in servant, but not in slave.
My eighth is in grotto, but not in cave.
My ninth is in manage, but not in wield.
My whole's an American battle-field.

EMPIRE CITY.

2.

First in fun, not in play.
Second in green, not in gray.
Third in idle, not in work.
Fourth in tired, not in shirk.
Fifth in eel, not in fish.
Sixth in dream, not in wish.
Seventh in sad, not in gay.
Eighth in study, not in play.
Ninth in tame, not in wild.
Tenth in gentle, not in mild.
Eleventh in learn, not in school.
Twelfth in smart, not in fool.
My whole a country great and wide,
Whose flag is honored on every side.

EDNA M.

* * * * *

No. 2.

TWO CHARADES.

1.

I am composed of 8 letters.
My first and second is a verb.
My third and fourth is a preposition.
My fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth is a kind of vegetable.
My whole is the name of a maiden.

2.

I am composed of 8 letters.
My 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 is the name of an inventor.
My 6 and 7 is a preposition.
My 8 is an article.
My whole is a name noted in Arabian story.

MILTON W.

* * * * *

No. 3.

ZIGZAGS--(_To Will A. Mette_).

1. A volcanic rock. 2. A musical term. 3. More. 4. A kind of beetle. 5. A tuft. 6. A Swiss coin. 7. Stead. 8. A pit. 9. An ancient Norse character. 10. A kind of tea. Zigzags--A mineral.

LODESTAR.

* * * * *

No. 4.

ST. ANDREW'S CROSS OF DIAMONDS.

Central Diamond--1. A letter. 2. A genus of serpents. 3. Small vessels. 4. The Goddess of Revenge. 5. A letter.

Upper Right-hand Diamond--1. A letter. 2. An Anglo-Saxon money. 3. Small nails. 4. Coalesce. 5. A letter.

Upper Left-hand Diamond--1. A letter. 2. A Roman deity. 3. A native of the West Indies. 4. Part of the body. 5. A letter.

Lower Right-hand Diamond--1. A letter. 2. An animal. 3. A past participle. 4. A Chinese musical instrument. 5. A letter.

Lower Left-hand Diamond--1. A letter. 2. A boy's name. 3. An alloy. 4. A tree. 5. A letter.

LODESTAR.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 132.

No. 1.

Dub-lin.

No. 2.

D-ur-a. P-aisle-y. V-eva-y. M-agent-a. S-ever-n. M-iser-y. L-adog-a.

No. 3.

Diary.

No. 4.

Helena. Charles. Red. Snake. Erie. Clinch. Charles Dickens.

No. 5.

T T
T A B T U B
T A B E S T U B E S
T A B A R E T T U B U L A R
B E R M E B E L A M
S E E S A M
T R

No. 6.

Lair--air. Clock--lock. Gas--as. Mill--ill. Man--an. Skate--Kate. Shot--hot. Sam--am. Sever--ever.

* * * * *

The answer to the Rebus on page 432 (No. 131) is "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Maud Mary Chambers, George P. Taggart, John J. Widrig, Mabel Shelton, Eda L. Baldwin, Clara Blank, Sammie Bronson, Lulu Kirtland, Alice and Richard Tindall, "I. Scycle," A. Gertie Childs, F. F. Tonn, Leo Marks, Clinton Roe, Elsie O. R., Edgar Seeman, A. E. Cressingham, William A. Lewis, Mabel and Annie Knight, Lizzie Maxwell, J. R. Blake, Jessie S. Godine, Albert Feibel, "Red Riding Hood," Florence Raymond, John Walter Bangs, Smith Tangiers, Arthur Comstock, and Lulu Brown.

* * * * *

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

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, May 30, 1882, by Various