Chapter II: Part 2

Ni-ha-be did not know how very little help the wealth of a girl's father can give her in a quarrel with her school-books. But just such ideas as hers have filled the silly heads of countless young white people of both sexes.

"I can tell you some of it."

"Tell me what made you cry."

"I can't find my father. He is not here. Not in any of them."

"You don't need him now. He was only a pale-face. Many Bears is a great chief. He is your father now."

Something seemed to tell Rita that she would not be wise to arouse her friend's national jealousy. It was better to turn to some of the pictures, and try to explain them. Very funny explanations she gave, too, but she at least knew more than Ni-ha-be, and the latter listened seriously enough.

"Rita, was there ever such a mule as that?--one that could carry a pack under his skin?"

It was Rita's turn now to be proud, for that was one of the pictures she had been able to understand. She had even read enough to be able to tell Ni-ha-be a good deal about a camel.

It was deeply interesting, but the Apache maiden suddenly turned from the page to exclaim,

"Rita, Red Wolf says the talking leaves must tell you about the blue-coat soldiers or he will burn them up."

"I'm going to keep them."

"I won't let him touch them."

"But, Ni-ha-be, they do tell about the soldiers. Look here."

She picked up another of the magazines, and turned over a few leaves.

"There they are. All mounted and ready to march."

Sure enough, there was a fine wood-cut of a party of cavalry moving out of camp with wagons.

Over went the page, and there was another picture.

Ten times as many cavalry on the march, followed by an artillery force with cannon.

"Oh, Rita! Father must see that."

"Of course he must; but that is not all."

Another leaf was turned, and there was a view of a number of Indian chiefs in council at a fort, with a strong force of both cavalry and infantry drawn up around them.

Rita had not read the printed matter on any of those pages, and did not know that it was only an illustrated description of campaigning and treaty-making on the Western plains. She was quite ready to agree with Ni-ha-be that Many Bears ought to hear at once what the talking leaves had to say about so very important a matter.

It was a good time to see him now, for he was no longer very hungry, and word had come in from the hunters that they were having good success. A fine prospect of a second supper, better than the first, was just the thing to make the mighty chief good-tempered, and he was chatting cozily with some of his "old braves" when Rita and Ni-ha-be drew near.

They beckoned to Red Wolf first.

"The talking leaves have told Rita all you wanted them to. She must speak to father."

Red Wolf's curiosity was strong enough to make him arrange for that at once, and even Many Bears himself let his face relax into a grim smile as the two girls came timidly nearer the circle of warriors.

After all, they were the pets and favorites of the chief; they were young and pretty, and so long as they did not presume to know more than warriors and counsellors they might be listened to. Besides, there were the talking leaves, and Rita's white blood, bad as it was for her, might be of some use in such a matter.

"Ugh!"

Many Bears looked at the picture of the cavalry squad with a sudden start. "No lie this time. Camp right here. Just so many blue-coats. Just so many wagons. Good. Now where go?"

Rita turned the leaf, and her Indian father was yet more deeply interested.

"Ugh! More blue-coats. Great many. No use follow. Get all killed. Big guns. Indians no like 'em. Ugh!"

If the cavalry expedition was on its way to join a larger force, it would indeed be of no use to follow it, and Many Bears was a cautious leader as well as a brave one.

Rita's news was not yet all given, however, and when the eyes of the chief fell upon the picture of the "treaty-making" he sprang to his feet.

"Ugh! Big talk come. Big presents. Other Apaches all know--all be there--all get blanket, gun, tobacco, new axe. Nobody send us word, because we off on hunt beyond the mountains. Now we know, we march right along. Rest horse, kill game, then ride. Not lose our share of presents."

Rita could not have told him his mistake, and even if she had known it, she would have been puzzled to explain away the message of the talking leaves.

Did not every brave in the band know that that first picture told the truth about the cavalry? Why, then, should they doubt the correctness of the rest of it?

No; a treaty there was to be, and presents were to come from the red man's "great father at Washington," and that band of Apaches must manage to be on hand and secure all that belonged to it, and as much more as possible.

Red Wolf had nothing more to say about burning up leaves which had talked so well, and his manner toward Rita was almost respectful as he led her and Ni-ha-be away from the group of great men that was now gathering around the chief. Red Wolf was too young a brave to have any business to remain while gray heads were in council. A chief would almost as soon take advice from a squaw as from a "boy."

Mother Dolores had heard nothing of all this, but her eyes had not missed the slightest thing. She had even permitted a large slice of deer meat to burn to a crisp in her eager curiosity.

"What did they say to the chief?" was her first question to Rita.

But Ni-ha-be answered her with: "Ask the warriors. If we talk too much, we shall get into trouble."

"You must tell me."

"Not until after supper. Rita, don't let's tell her a word unless she cooks for us and gives us all we want. She made us get our own supper last night."

"You came late. I did not tell your father. I gave you enough. I am very good to you."

"No," said Rita; "sometimes you are cross, and we don't get enough to eat. Now you shall cook us some corn-bread and some fresh meat. I am tired of dried buffalo: it is tough."

The curiosity of Dolores was getting hotter and hotter, and she thought again of the wonderful leaf which had spoken to her. She wanted to ask Rita questions about that too, and she had learned by experience that there was more to be obtained from her willful young friends by coaxing than in any other way.

"I will get your supper now, while the chiefs are talking. It shall be a good supper--good enough for Many Bears. Then you shall tell me all I ask."

"Of course I will," said Rita.

A fine fat deer had been deposited near that camp fire by one of the first hunters that had returned, and Mother Dolores was free to cut and carve from it, but her first attempt at a supper for the girls did not succeed very well. It was not on account of any fault of hers, however, or because the venison steak she cut and spread upon the coals, while her corn-bread was frying, did not broil beautifully.

No; the temporary disappointment of Ni-ha-be and Rita was not the fault of Mother Dolores. Their mighty father was sitting where the odor of that cookery blew down upon him, and it made him hungry again before the steak was done. He called Red Wolf to help him, for the other braves were departing to their own camp fires, and in a minute or so more there was little left of the supper intended for the two young squaws. Dolores patiently cut and began to broil another slice, but that was Red Wolf's first supper, and it was the third slice which found its way into the lodge, after all.

The strange part of it was that not even Ni-ha-be dreamed of complaining. It was according to custom.

There was plenty of time to eat supper after it came, for Dolores was compelled to look out for her own. She would not have allowed any other squaw to cook for her, any more than she herself would have condescended to fry a cake for any one below the rank of her own husband and his family.

Mere common braves and their squaws could take care of themselves, and it was of small consequence to Dolores whether they had anything to eat or not. There is more "aristocracy" among the wild red men than anywhere else, and they have plenty of white imitators who should know better.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

SHADOW PANTOMIMES.

What are the boys and girls going to do Thanksgiving night when dinner is over, the nuts and raisins all gone, the last sugar-plum eaten, and it isn't yet time to go to bed? Suppose they try Shadow Pantomimes.

Draw a white screen across the parlor, hanging down to the floor, darken the part of the room where the audience are, and place one strong light at the extreme end, behind the stage, so that the shadows of the actors will be thrown on the screen when they pass or stand behind it. The subjects have to be guessed by the audience. A Shadow Pantomime has the advantage that all sorts of contrivances can be used, and the appearance of the players disguised, so that the lookers-on will soon want to see what is at the other side of the screen, where the sight of card-board cats and donkeys and paper noses and chins would be a sad disillusion. The player should in general keep near the screen, but never touch or shake it; and as there is no scenery except such shadows as bushes or fences, no scene is announced, but all has to be guessed from the action of the figures. The subjects should, of course, be easy to guess, as the audience enjoys better what is recognized quickly. We suggest to ingenious shadow-makers as possible subjects: _Cinderella_--the child and the godmother, the dance, the fitting of the shoe. _The Lion and the Unicorn_--the lion's mane and tail and the unicorn's horn being the chief distinctions, and the crown being represented on a pole in the middle while they fight; afterward the representation of the last lines are easy: "Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown; some gave them plum-cake, and drummed them out of town." _Punch and Judy_, with Judy's large cap and Punch's hump, pointed cap, and long nose and chin, and of course a Toby, well cut out of mill-board or card-board. _The House that Jack built_, with a constant show of the objects in succession, some of them only cut models, held at a distance from the screen so as to enlarge the shadows: this would be necessary, for instance, in showing the house with its bright windows, and it is well for such subjects to draw a curtain across the lower part of the stage, and place a screen at each side, so as to leave only a small square of light for exhibiting the shadows, while the hands are hidden behind the screens. _Sing a Song of Sixpence_, the pie being the shadow of a packed clothes-basket, the king and queen wearing crowns, and the blackbird of the last verses being swung on the end of a thread so as to hit off a paper nose.

Most of the nursery rhymes admit of being shown in shadows, and also such ballads as the "Mistletoe Bough." There may be, for a change at the end, a few shadow charades, such as Snow-ball, Cox-comb, Asterisk (ass-tea-risk), Ring-let, Cat-as-(ass)-trophy, etc., done quickly and guessed easily.

KING HAZELNUT

King Hazelnut, of Weisnichtwo,
A jolly King was he,
And all his subjects, high and low,
Were happy as could be.

They feasted every day on pie
And pudding and plum-cake,
And never broke the law--for why?--
There was no law to break.

Oh, jolly was King Hazelnut,
Especially at noon;
Then many a caper he would cut,
And hum a merry tune.

And from his golden throne he'd hop,
And fling his sceptre down,
And on the table, like a top,
Would spin his golden crown.

Then he would slap his sides and sing
Unto his serving-man,
"That rolly-poly pudding bring
As lively as you can."

A HAPPY THANKSGIVING and a splendid time to all our boys and girls!

* * * * *

GLENCOE, LOUISIANA.

Viola E. would perhaps find the names most familiar to your young
Creole subscribers in Louisiana as unaccustomed as are those of
which she writes to the ears of children outside of Virginia. In
this house the young girl to whom YOUNG PEOPLE is addressed was
christened Elmire, but is known only by her _petit nom_ of
"Fillette." Her mother's name is Gracieuse--is it not musical? An
impish little ebon-hued maid in the yard is Mariquite. Another,
with gleaming ivories, is Yélie. A cousin who comes often, and is
nearly old enough to cast his vote, is yet "Bébé," despite his
sponsors having called him Édouard. And "Guisson," his brother, who
would guess his name to be Émile?

A little knowledge of creole interiors would correct the ideas so
prevalent as to creole indolence. Away down here, on a sluggish
little bayou that makes its way through the plantation to the
not-far-distant Gulf, these young girls, though not perhaps
speaking so good English as their Virginia sisters of Anglo-Saxon
extraction, having learned it rather from the lips of negro
servants than from their parents, are, at any rate, their peers in
womanly accomplishments, if practical knowledge of the details of a
_ménage_ constitutes such--the ability to wash, starch, iron,
straighten a room, make a gumbo, mix a cake and bake it, etc. The
very neatly made calico dresses they wear are their own handiwork.
After five hours spent in the school-room with their
_institutrice_, and the required time given to the practice of
their piano, one of them is amusing herself by making a quantity of
under-clothing for a beloved little _filleule_. A _basse-cour_ of
about six hundred turkeys, ducks, and chickens is cared for almost
wholly by the two girls and their mother. Domestic virtues these,
worthy even of Yankee girls, are they not? Just as much, though, as
Yankee girls or as Virginia girls do these young Louisianians claim
their heritage as Americans and their place among your "Young
People."

L'INSTITUTRICE.

We have read this letter with great pleasure, and now we would like to hear from somebody about our Western girls; and the New England girls too will find a corner waiting if they choose to write.

* * * * *

HARPER, IOWA.

I can now read all the long stories in YOUNG PEOPLE. I liked "Tim
and Tip" very much, and think the bear hunt was quite funny. I had
a pair of white doves given me as a present. One of them, in trying
to fly through the screen door, broke its neck, and the other flew
away with some wild ones. So I lost my pets, and was very sorry. I
am sorry for Jimmy Brown. He makes me think of myself sometimes. My
sister teaches piano music. My two brothers play in the Cornet
Band, and I am learning music; so we have plenty of music. We all
go to school.

HARPER R.

* * * * *

MANHATTAN, KANSAS.

I have three brothers and two sisters. This summer we all went to
New Mexico. We stopped at Las Vegas, and saw the Hot Springs, and
the water in the springs was so hot that we could not hold our
hands in it. And we stopped over Sunday at Santa Fe, and saw the
Corpus Christi procession. We saw a horned toad that ran as fast as
a horse. We brought back two donkeys, and mine threw me off, and
broke my two front teeth. Uncle Henry gave us some saddles. Our
baby is only two months old, and has red hair. I liked "Toby Tyler"
best of any. I am nine years old. My name is

MAGGIE P.

* * * * *

ROSA MAYFIELD'S LOSS.

Let me introduce my readers to a bright, sunny-haired girl who on a
pleasant morning in July is playing in a large garden. She first
sits down in a pretty little arbor, and sews for a short time; then
she puts her work away, and goes to plant some seed which old
James, the gardener, has given her. Suddenly she hears some one
calling to her from the house.

"Rosa! Rosa! come here a minute, my child."

"Yes, mamma," said Rosa; "I will come as soon as I have put away my
tools."

When she reached the sitting-room, her mamma was not there, but on
running to the bedroom, she found her, all dressed to go out, and
putting on her gloves. As soon as she saw Rosa, she said: "Would
you like to go to the cattle show with me, dear, and then go to
your cousins, in the country for tea? The carriage will be round
presently."

"Oh yes, indeed I should, mamma," said the little girl, as she
skipped away to nurse to be dressed.

"Oh, you darling mamma," said Rosa, as she settled herself in the
carriage beside her mother. "I always enjoy going to tea with May
and Clara Haliburton so much! and I have never been to a cattle
show;" and here she clapped her hands and laughed so loud that her
mother had to tell her to be quiet, as the passers-by would think
she must be a very badly behaved little girl.

At last, they reached the cattle show. Then they got out of the
carriage, and went inside. There they saw dogs, cats, rabbits, and
all sorts of animals. Rosa was greatly delighted with a beautiful
white rabbit with pink eyes.

After they had seen enough, they drove to the rectory, where the
Haliburtons lived. After Rosa had said good-afternoon to her aunt,
May and Clara took her to see the chickens and rabbits, the donkey,
and all their other pets. Never had she spent such a delightful
afternoon, and was very sorry when the tea bell rang, and they had
to go in. But what a tea they had! Muffins, cakes, and preserves of
all sorts, and such delicious fresh bread and butter, and new milk
from her uncle's farm. At a quarter to nine the carriage came to
take them home, and they had to say good-by.

Rosa was so tired that she fell asleep in her mamma's arms, and
never woke till the next morning, when she found herself in her own
little bed.

In Mrs. Mayfield's room some parcels are waiting, addressed to Miss
R. Mayfield, one large, and the others small; and as it is Rosa's
birthday, she is to open them herself. All the small ones are
opened. In one she finds a gold brooch from her mamma; in another
is a prayer-book from her father; in the others are presents from
all her little friends. At last she unties the string and draws off
the paper of the large parcel, and gives one scream of delight as
she sees in a beautiful lined basket the little rabbit she saw at
the cattle show. The lady to whom it belonged, being a friend of
Mrs. Mayfield, had heard Rosa saying she would like to have it, and
had sent it to her. Rosa ran off with her new pet to feed it, and
after showing it to everybody she took it into the garden and put
it into a cage close by her arbor, in a sunny corner, where she
could always see it. She kept it carefully for three months; but on
going to feed it one morning, with her hands full of lettuce leaves
and clover, she found her pet was gone. A cruel cat had come every
day and watched her feeding her rabbit, and at last, seeing her
just pull the door to, and not lock it, had seized the opportunity,
and had carried off her pet.

Poor little Rosa cried herself to sleep that night, and for many
nights after, and never loved any of the pets her mamma gave her as
she had loved her little white rabbit.

GUSSIE TOBIAS (aged 10 years),
Liverpool, England.

* * * * *

OKAHUMPKA, FLORIDA.

I am a little girl ten years old, and live away down in South
Florida, where the sun is always bright and the trees always green.
In our quiet little home there are only mamma, Addie, and I. Our
dear father is dead. Sister Addie is six years old. We have no
school, church, nor Sunday-school. Mamma gives us our lessons daily
at home, and a kind English gentleman gives me music lessons. We do
not know who sends us the YOUNG PEOPLE, but hope our kind unknown
friend will see this letter, and learn how much we enjoy the gift
and appreciate the kindness. I am suffering from sore eyes, and not
allowed to read or write, so mamma is writing for me; but when I
get well I will write myself, and tell about our pets and other
things.

ROSA M. J.

* * * * *

SCANDIA, KANSAS.

I have been taking your paper almost a year, and like it very much.
It was papa's Christmas present to me, so I thought I would write
you a letter. I have a pet hen. I call her Brownie. She is getting
old now. She answers me in hen language when I take her up and talk
to her. I have a canary-bird. I call him Dickey. He is just
learning to sing.

LAURA H.

* * * * *

HARLEM, NEW YORK.

I have had my cat Till seven years. We think he is a very wise cat,
for he sits upon his hind-legs and begs. When I go down stairs in
the morning, if I say, "Good-morning, Till," he will shake hands
with me. He is a very dainty cat. He will not eat roast beef unless
it is very rare, and he does not care at all for the heads of
chickens and turkeys; but he loves cheese and crackers, and will
eat all the cake I will give him. I am eleven years old.

MABEL M. S.

* * * * *

MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN.

I have a great many dolls, and a large doll house in the
conservatory, which I enjoy very much, so I thought you would be
pleased to have a letter from me. Mrs. Love Lee and her ten
children live in the large doll house, which is a little taller
than I am. I am six. The babies Faith, Hope, and Love are triplets.
I wish we had three live babies. Cozy has two kittens. Cozy is my
cat. Arthur and Arabella are twins, about in the middle. Blanche is
the young lady, and Fifine the big school-girl. Rosebud is only six
inches tall, and her eyes open and shut, and she moves her head and
arms and legs. Daffodil is just the same, only smaller, and Joe is
the little boy. Ida takes care of the children in the nursery.
Dinah is the cook. She is colored very much. Chechon sets the
table, and keeps the dining-room in order. Chechon is a Chinese.
The twins have a very nice cabinet of shells and stones. I gave
them some out of mine. Each of the children have something to do to
help their mamma, just, as I do.

I go to Kindergarten, and once a week I speak a little piece out of
_Baby-Land_, or _St. Nicholas_, or HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, or _The
Nursery_. I can say all of "The Cat, the Parrot, and the Monkey."
It is just at the end of my bound HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. It is
called "Filbert." That is the best story I know. I like "The Story
of a Parrot," too, but it would have been better if some one had
carried him home at last. Papa says he don't see why I like that
story so well, but he reads it to me 'most every Sunday. He likes
"Toby Tyler" a great deal better, or even "Tim and Tip." They are
pretty good too. I don't like story boys as well as I do story
animals. I like live animals too. Dogs and cats are never afraid of
me, but will come right to me in the street or anywhere. I found a
little mud-turtle at Minnehaha Falls, and brought it to papa and
mamma by its tail, and it played with me a little while, and then I
carried it back to its cave at the side of the path down the gully.

This fall I caught a live star-fish, when the tide was coming in,
down on the beach at Portland, Maine, and we brought it home to put
in my cabinet when it gets dry enough. It is sticky yet. It is out
in the wood-shed drying. When we were going there I caught a mouse.
It ran into its hole in the corner of the dépôt, all but its tail.
I suppose I took hold too tightly, or else too high up, for he
turned around and bit my thumb. I wasn't going to hurt him, but
just to play with him a little while. I wish animals could talk.
That was at the Montreal dépôt.

You asked about dolls. I have a doll, about a foot high, wheeling a
little cart in front of her. When I draw the cart by a string, the
doll goes trot, trot, trot on behind, and every one I meet turns
around, and says, "Did you ever see anything so funny?" Uncle Ebb
found it at Manistee, Michigan, and sent it to me by express.

Blossom is my very large wax doll. I draw her around the block in
her carriage every pleasant afternoon. Sometimes Daisy, who is
almost as large, rides in the front seat. If it is too warm for
Blossom to go out, Daisy will ride in the back seat, and Charity in
front. Charity is indestructible and good, but not beautiful.
Cisily I took with me to Vermont and Boston and Maine, because she
had never been anywhere. She ought to have a new dress Christmas,
if Santa Claus only knew it. Joe is just as tall as Cisily. I
measure them often with my foot-rule. They are once and a half
tall. They have the same furry hair. They have a very nice
carriage, and always ride out together. I shall take Joe next. He
has never been anywhere yet, but Cisily wore his overcoat and
rubbers East, and took his little knife I in her pocket. He thought
she might want it to whittle in Vermont or Boston. Uncle Ebb often
helps me play, and speaks for the dolls. I am all there is here of
children.

I have a good many more dolls. There is a small doll house full,
and Mother Goose with her shoe full of them, and some of the
children in the doll houses have dolls for themselves. The
"log-cabin" has a family in that. The "Swiss cottage" has only
wooden people. The frame house has twelve children. I like large
families. They are more convenient for the children. Mamma reads
your letters to me. I could read them, but they are printed so fine
it is hard to read. I am in the Second Reader, and the same words
are easy to read in that. I read a lesson every day in the
connecting class, after Kindergarten is over at noon. I read,
spell, write, and draw about fifteen minutes each, and am home to
dinner at one. Then come the kitties and dolls.

NELLIE B.

* * * * *

SAYBROOK, CONNECTICUT.

I see you want to know whether dolls have gone out of style. No, I
think not. I am eleven years old. I was very sick when I was six
years old, and have not been able to walk since except in braces. I
have a rolling-chair that I am wheeled in when out-doors, and I
have many nice times with my dolls. I have eight of them. I think
YOUNG PEOPLE is very nice. I hope this is not too long to be
printed, as it is my first letter to any paper. I have eight pets.

BELLE M. I.

* * * * *

I want to tell you about my little dog. He is a black and tan, and
is so cute. He will speak, sit on his hind-legs and beg, and catch
anything thrown to him. His name is Bijon.

I will send twenty-five rare foreign stamps for ten gilt picture
advertising cards, and give twelve internal revenue stamps for five
gilt picture cards. One $2 stamp; nine $1; a 30 cent, 50, 25, 20,
15; two 10, two 5, and one 2 cent stamp. Please give your full
address when you send cards. My name is

NELLIE MASON, P. O. Box 636,
Madison, Wisconsin.

* * * * *

HILL VIEW, KENTUCKY.

My teacher gave me YOUNG PEOPLE as a prize for being a good
scholar. Ma raised about one hundred turkeys this year, and I
raised twelve guinea-fowl with them. I like the paper very much. I
am always glad when Saturday comes.

CARRIE MCK.

* * * * *

SOUTH NORWALK, CONNECTICUT.

I am sorry the girl in South Glastenbury does not like cats. If she
knew my cat, I think she would like him. My brother caught fifty
little fish for him, each about as long as my little finger. After
he had eaten twenty-five, he could scarcely eat any more, but would
not let us take them away, as he wanted to play with them.
Sometimes he goes to the door, and asks us to let him come up
stairs, when he gets into my doll's bed, pulls the sheet off her,
and gets close to her. When she sits up in a chair, he gets in her
lap. He does not like to hear the noise made by dishes, so, when
they are washed, he mews till they are done. My brother plagued him
once, and Kit ran to the door, and stopped a minute to consider,
then ran back, and struck him with his paws. He is lazy, but you
need not put that in YOUNG PEOPLE.

JESSIE B.

A puss that has fifty fish offered him at once is quite excusable for being lazy. We think he is a very interesting cat.

* * * * *

OAKDALE, PENNSYLVANIA.

Papa gave me a male canary about two years ago, and last spring my
uncle gave my sister a female, and we thought we would try to raise
some little birds. The mother bird laid five eggs, and they all
hatched and grew to be big birds, were very tame, and we used to
carry them around the room, and let them ride in our dolls'
coaches. She laid five eggs again, but we only raised three more
birds. They are all singers. We have seven cats--Polly, Beauty,
Tom, Milly, Pussy, Harry, and Lottie. Polly is a Maltese. Our dog
is named Friskie. I am ten years old.

MARY E. D.

* * * * *

PINE BEND, MINNESOTA.

I thought I would tell you about some hens we had when I was four
or five years old. One would come in the pantry, if the window was
left open, and lay her egg in a pan of eggs on the shelf. Another
was determined to make her nest up stairs, and we did not dare
leave the front-door open. Another hen laid three times in the
wood-box in the kitchen, in spite of being driven out many times.

MARY M.

* * * * *

DENVER, COLORADO.

I like the paper real well, and the little letters too. My mamma
reads 'em to us, 'cause we can't read ourselves. Grandpapa sent it
to brother and me last New-Year's. My dolly I like so much! She has
nice clothes, and the dearest little button boots and stockings
what come off; and I have lovely dishes. Grandpapa sent 'em to me.
I have lots of nice times with my things, but there are too many to
tell about. We had a nice time at a birthday party Saturday. I just
started to school this fall. I will be seven years old to-morrow.
Mamma "finks" my letter pretty nearly too long now, so I won't
write any more. I'll try and not be "'spointed" if you can't print
it, 'cause you have so many letters. Mamma's writing for me.
Good-by.

NELLIE D.

I am Charlie, Nellie's brother. I like all the stories so well, I
can't tell which I like best. We can see the mountains from our
doors and windows just as plain all the time, only when it's
stormy. My kitty got up in mamma's lap at table the other day, and
wanted to eat out of her plate. I had a live frog in a pail. One
morning I went to school, and forgot to fill up the pail, and just
as I came from school kitty had him. He killed him, and was going
to eat him. I took him away, and gave him to the chickens, and
_spanked_ Sam--that's my kitty's name; I named him for grandpapa. I
will be nine years old April 3, but it's so hard to write. Good-by.

CHARLES FRED D.

* * * * *

BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I am eleven years old, and I save the pennies I get for doing
errands to buy HARPER'S. I earned four dollars this season to help
papa buy me a winter suit. I have been to Boston, and would like to
live there all the time. I have only one sister, and she is my pet.
She has a little white bantam hen for her pet. I have nine aunts,
and I am going to write to them all some day, and send them one of
my _Harper's Magazines_. Mamma wrote this letter, but I told her
what to say. Good-by, from

DANIEL A.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

The Postmistress is very happy to give the readers of Our Post-office Box the pleasure of reading a description of the little yacht _Toby Tyler_, now cruising in Southern waters:

DEAR "YOUNG PEOPLE,"--The _Toby Tyler_, named after the hero of
Mr. Otis's most successful story, is a very small steamer, being
only about forty-five feet in length, and drawing but three feet of
water. She was built so small and of such light draught because it
is intended that she shall explore most of the rivers on the west
coast of Florida, some of which are very shallow. Perhaps she will
go farther than Florida, and explore a country that abounds in
material for interesting adventures and thrilling stories.

As the _Toby_ is so small, she can not go away out to sea and
around Cape Hatteras, like the great steam-ships that carry
passengers to Florida. She has to take what is known as the "inland
passage."

After leaving her dock at the foot of West Twenty-ninth Street, in
New York, the _Toby_ steamed down the North or Hudson River until
she passed the Battery. Then she was in the Upper Bay. Crossing
this, and turning to the westward, she steamed along the north
shore of Staten Island, through the broad river-like body of water
called the Kill Von Kull. Passing New Brighton and the Sailors'
Sung Harbor and Elizabethport, through the Arthur Kill and Staten
Island Sound, both continuations of the Kill Von Kull, the _Toby_
reached Perth Amboy, and turned into the Raritan River, which here
empties into Raritan Bay.

The Raritan River is so shallow and so crooked that the yacht
proceeded very slowly and carefully for seventeen miles, until she
reached New Brunswick. Here she entered the Delaware and Raritan
Canal, and found herself in company with great numbers of heavy
canal-boats drawn by mules or horses. The canal in which the little
_Toby_ now sailed runs through a very beautiful portion of New
Jersey, and her passengers enjoyed travelling on it very much. They
especially enjoyed going through the locks, always in company with
some other craft, which was sometimes a canal-boat, sometimes
another steamer, with sometimes a big schooner, whose tall masts
and white sails looked very funny among the trees on the canal
banks.

The principal places that the _Toby_ passed while in the canal were
Bound Brook, Princeton, Trenton, and Bordentown. At the last-named
place she passed through the last of the twelve locks, and having
had forty-three miles of canal sailing, steamed gladly out into the
broad Delaware River.

A run of twenty-nine miles down this beautiful river brought her to
Philadelphia, where she rested for a few days, and gave her
passengers time to get acquainted with this dear old city, in which
so many of the readers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE live.

On leaving Philadelphia the _Toby_ steamed merrily down the
Delaware for forty miles to Delaware City, in the State of
Delaware, where she entered the Delaware and Chesapeake Canal,
which connects the Delaware River with Chesapeake Bay. This canal
is only fourteen miles long, and has but two locks, one at each
end, so that the little yacht, soon found herself at Chesapeake
City, in the State of Maryland, and at the southern end of the
canal.

After an all day's run down the upper end of Chesapeake Bay, the
_Toby_ entered the Patapsco River, and steamed up to Baltimore,
where she landed her passengers in time to witness the great Oriole
Celebration.

Then she went back down the Patapsco and again into Chesapeake Bay.
This bay is so wide that it is almost as rough and stormy at times
as the sea itself, and the poor little _Toby_ had a very hard time,
and was roughly handled by the great waves before the pleasant
Wednesday morning when she turned into the broad mouth of the York
River, and dropped anchor amongst the big ships in front of
Yorktown. As the little boat ran in between two of the great war
ships, they began firing guns and banging away at such a furious
rate that in a few moments not only the poor little _Toby_ but they
themselves were completely enveloped in a dense cloud of smoke. In
a few minutes those on board the _Toby_ learned that the government
steamer _Dispatch_, with President Arthur on board, had just
arrived, and that all this firing of guns was only a salute to him,
as though the big ships had said, "How do you do, Mr. President? We
are very glad to welcome you to Yorktown."

After leaving this place the _Toby_ went back down the York River
into Chesapeake Bay again, and for a short distance out into the
ocean, before steaming past the grim walls of Fortress Monroe and
into Hampton Roads.

Without stopping to see the fort or the Indian schools at Hampton,
the _Toby_ hurried on, and an hour later sailed into the quiet
harbor of Norfolk, at the mouth of the Elizabeth River.

The upper deck or cabin roof of the _Toby Tyler_ extends nearly
over her entire length, so that, though small, she can be made very
comfortable in any weather. Her cabin, which is also dining-room
and sleeping-room for four, is back of the engine-room, and
occupies the whole of the after-part of the yacht. Her engine is in
the middle, right under the smoke-stack, and forward of this is the
cockpit, of which the sides are open except when inclosed by heavy
canvas storm curtains. Here, in very warm weather, hammocks can be
slung at night, in which the passengers may sleep.

On the upper deck is a light cedar canoe--the _Psyche_--with
paddles, masts, and sails, intended for exploring rivers and lakes
that are too shallow for the _Toby_, and beside the canoe is lashed
a good-sized tent with its poles, so that when Mr. Otis and his
friends tire of living on board the yacht, they can, if they
choose, establish a camp on shore.

In various lockers on the yacht, besides the baggage of her
passengers and crew, and the coal, are stored four hundred pounds
of canned provisions and fruits, a tool chest, medicine chest,
ammunition chest, blankets, writing and sketching materials, books,
charts, etc.

CAPTAIN C. K. M.

* * * * *

THE POET COWPER.

William Cowper was born November 26, 1731, in Hertfordshire.
England. His mother died before he was six years old. He was sent
to a school where he suffered a great deal from the teasing of the
other boys. He had an affection of the eyes, and so he was placed
at an oculist's house, where he had smallpox, and that cured his
eyes. After that he became a clerk in a lawyer's office, and
studied for admission to the bar. The strain on his mind was too
great, and he sought relief by trying to commit suicide by hanging.
In this he did not succeed. A friend placed him in the country,
where, after skillful treatment, he recovered from the fits of
mental depression that he was subject to. He was fickle and
inconstant to friends, but loving and kind to his pets. He had
three leverets, or hares, given to him, and in these he found much
amusement, for he was sick, and wanted something to occupy his
mind. The hares were males, and their names were Puss, Tiney, and
Bess. He built them a house, and each had his own bedroom to sleep
in. Puss lived to be eleven years old, Tiney to be nine, and Bess
died soon after Cowper received him. The poetry about the chair is
found in the "Task," and is called "The Sofa." Cowper died in the
town of East Durham, on Friday, the 25th of April, 1800, and was
buried in St. Edmund's Chapel, in the church of East Durham.

EDNA L. MAYNARD.

This little description of the poet Cowper is very creditable to its writer, who is only eleven years old. But the Postmistress must disagree with her in the opinion that he was inconstant and fickle as a friend.

* * * * *

In this number we begin the publication of a series of articles calculated to be of especial interest to the members of the C. Y. P. R. U. They are from the pen of the popular English novelist Mr. James Payn, and, under the head of "Perils and Privations," deal with stories of fact relating to shipwreck more thrilling than any tales of fictitious adventure.

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

HISTORICAL ENIGMA.

I am a celebrated document, and am composed of eleven letters.
My first was one of the decisive battles of the world, and was fought
between the Greeks and Persians.
My second was a very great warrior, who could not govern himself,
though he conquered the world.
My third was a humane physician who invented an instrument of cruelty.
My fourth was a great philosopher and mathematician.
My fifth came over in the _Mayflower_.
My sixth was a young hero celebrated by an English poetess.
My seventh was a blind poet whom seven cities claimed for their own.
My eighth was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.
My ninth was a great artist.
My tenth is a distinguished living poet.
My eleventh met a disgraceful death in the Revolutionary war.

SUSAN NIPPER.

* * * * *

No. 2.

TWO EASY DIAMONDS.

1.--Centrals.--A famous battle in the Revolution.

1. A letter. 2. A weapon. 3. A sort of knife. 4. Spectral. 5. The conclusion. 6. A letter.

W. D. M.

2.--1. A letter. 2. Devoured. 3. Orbs of light. 4. A period. 5. A letter.

E. W.

* * * * *

No. 3.

NUMERICAL ENIGMA.

The whole, of 14 letters, is a city in Europe.
My 8, 2, 7 is a weight.
My 14, 6, 8, 11, 10 is an American city.
My 1, 6, 3, 5, 2, 3 is a Chinese city.
My 12, 9, 4, 5, 2, 13 is a small fire-arm.

DAMON AND PYTHIAS.

* * * * *

ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 105.

No. 1.

P I L O T D
I V A N N E D
L A C D E B A R
O N D A M
T R

No. 2.

F
S A D
S I R E D
S T R I P E S
S I R E N I C A L
F A R I N A C E O U S
D E P I C T I N G
D E C E I V E
S A O N E
L U G
S

No. 3.

Valhalla.

No. 4.

"John Burns of Gettysburg."

No. 5.

D
S E R
D A T E S
D E L E T E S
S A L E R A T U S
D E T E R M I N E R S
R E T A I N E R S
S E T N E S S
S U E R S
S R S
S

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from M. E. S., Willie Volckhausen, "North Star," Frank S. Davis, Nannie Francis, Charles Beck, Emma Rose A., Lucy Cox, John D. Smith, Kittie E. Gill, Henry E. Johnston, Jun., James R. Magoffin, Clara H. Tower, Annetta D. Jackson, and Calvin Rufus Morgan.

* * * * *

[_For Exchanges, see second and third pages of cover._]

LETTER PUZZLES.

1.

Two S's, two N's, four E's, and a T,
Put together, and pray spell the word unto me.

2.

One R and two S's, three A's and one U,
Three N's and four T's and two I's, add unto
One O and one B, and tell me, I pray,
What word they will make if put in the right way.

3.

Four S's, four I's, two P's and an M,
What word can you easily make out of them?

4.

Three E's and two M's, two R's and one B,
Put down in right order, what word shall you see?

ANSWER TO YORKTOWN PUZZLE.

BELOW will be found the answer to the Yorktown Puzzle, given in No. 103, page 816:

NAMES OF ARTICLES (19).

N egro.
I mp.
N uts.
E nsigns.
T eeth.
E lm.
E wers.
N est.
T rays.
H andle.

O tter.
F lags.

O ats.
C hairs.
T ail.
O ak.
B ats.
E ave.
R amrod.

MILITARY MEN (16).

Steuben.
Lee.
Ward.
Marion.
Stark.
Gates.
Smith.
Greene.
St. Clair.
Stevens.
Gist.
Thomas.
Poor.
Arnold.
Nash.
Lafayette.

TOMMY. "I mean to be an Astronomer when I grow up!"

EFFIE. "What on earth will you do with yourself all Day long?"]