Chapter II: Part 2

"Any warriors go with me?"

"No. Maybe Apache dog see you. See pale-faces, and not think of Lipans. Dress Yellow Head. Wash off paint."

It was a genuine stroke of Indian war cunning. The two pale-faces were to act as scouts in the advance. If the Apaches should happen to see them, their presence would not suggest the dangerous nearness of a band of hostile Indians.

It may be the wise old chief added to himself that if both of them were killed on their perilous errand, the loss to his tribe would be of less consequence than that of two full-blooded Lipans. His pride of race would prevent his admitting that he had no brave in his band who was as well fitted to follow and find Apaches as was No Tongue.

"Now, Steve, we must eat all we know how, and then I'll fix you."

It had not harmed the young hunter in the opinion of his red friends that he had been unable to conceal his delight at the prospect before him.

"Young brave," they said, with approving nods. "Glad all over. Make good warrior some day."

He was indeed "glad all over"; but Murray cautioned him by a look, and he said nothing.

He was almost too glad to eat, but his appetite came back to him while he and Murray were cooking. He had eaten nothing since morning, and mountain air is a very hungry sort of air.

"That's right, my boy. There's no saying when you may get your next square meal. There's hard work before you and me, and plenty of it."

The next thing that came to Steve was a surprise.

Murray had never worn paint or adopted any more of Indian ways than he could help, but it was a wonder how soon he made himself look like a white man. There was more in the pack on his spare pony than Steve had imagined.

A few minutes' work with a pair of small scissors made a remarkable change in his hair and beard, and then the long locks of Yellow Head himself had to suffer.

"Go and scrub off every spot of paint, while I'm rigging my hunting shirt and leggings. You won't know me when you come back."

That was saying a little too much, but To-la-go-to-de himself expressed his admiration. He had seen wilder-looking white men by the hundred among the border settlements. No eyes in the world would suspect No Tongue of being a Lipan.

The transformation in Steve's appearance was shortly even greater, for Murray was able to furnish him with a "check" shirt and a black silk neckkerchief.

"Buckskin trousers'll have to do, my boy. No boots in camp; but I can knock the wrinkles out of this headpiece for you."

It was a black felt hat, and not very badly worn. Murray himself always wore one, but the supply had not been good enough for a long time to allow Steve to do the same.

"Now, Steve, I'm going to make old Two Knives give you the best mount in camp. Good as mine."

Such a war party never carries any slow horses with it, but there were some better than others, and the chief was as anxious as Steve that his scouts should be well mounted. Otherwise they might not be able to get back to him with any information they might pick up.

"Plenty of ammunition, Steve. Never mind any other kind of baggage, except some jerked meat. We may have to live on that."

There was no need for To-la-go-to-de to urge them. Not a minute was thrown away in their rapid preparations, and then the whole band turned out to see them ride away.

"I tell you what, Steve," said Murray, "we're not dressed in the latest fashion, but I haven't felt so much like a white man for years. I'll act like one too."

There was a flash of pain in his eyes as he said that. Could it be he had ever done anything unworthy of his race and training?

Perhaps, for he had ridden on a great many war-paths with the fierce and merciless Lipans.

The latter would not follow till morning, and would move less rapidly than their two scouts, but their progress was not likely to be at all slow.

Steve Harrison rode on by the side of his friend for some distance without saying a word.

"What's the matter, Steve?"

"Murray, I don't mean ever to go back to the Lipans."

"Not unless it's necessary."

"It won't be necessary."

"Can't say, Steve. All this country's full of Apaches. We may get a sight of 'em any minute. I don't much care how soon we do, either."

"I'm not Indian enough for some things, Murray."

"Couldn't you fight Apaches?"

"I suppose I could, if they came to fight me. But I don't want to kill anybody. I thought you said you were feeling more like a white man."

"Steve, I don't know how I'd feel if I had a white shirt on, and a suit of civilized clothes. I'm a good deal of a savage yet, as it is."

"I never saw anything very savage about you."

"I'm on the war-path now, Steve, after my old enemies. Let's make as good time as we can before dark. After that, we'll have to go carefully till the moon's up."

They were advancing a good deal more rapidly than the Apaches had been able to do over that same pass, hindered by their long train of tired pack-ponies, and their women and children.

It was not a difficult trail to follow, for the lodge-pole ends, dragging on the ground, had so deeply marked it that a man like Murray could have found it in the dark.

That was precisely what he did, after the sun sank behind the western mountains, and the deep shadows crept up from the ravines and covered everything.

After the moon rose it was easier work, and Steve thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than was the moonlight on the quartz cliffs, and the forest, and the little lakes in the deep valleys, and on the foaming streams which came tumbling down the mountain-sides from the regions of perpetual snow above.

Perhaps he was right, for hardly anybody has ever seen anything more beautiful in its way than such a moonlight view as that.

There was no time to stop and gaze, for Murray pushed on as fast as possible without using up their tough and wiry mustangs.

"We may need all the legs they've got to-morrow, Steve. We must find grass and water for them before daybreak."

It was a good three hours before sunrise, and the moon had again left them in darkness, when they almost groped their way down a steep declivity into a small hollow.

"Can't say how much there is of it, Steve, but this'll do. The Apache ponies have been cropping this very grass within twenty-four hours. Look at that."

"I can't see it very well."

"Feel of it, then. Don't you understand such a sign as that?"

"It's only a tuft of grass."

"Yes, but I found it ready pulled off, and it hasn't had time to more than wilt a little. The man that pulled it was here yesterday."

Murray did not know it, but no man had pulled that grass. It was a bunch Ni-ha-be had gathered for her pony, and then had thrown at Rita. Still, the guess about the time of it was nearly right, and that was a good enough place to rest in until daylight.

"No cooking this morning, I suppose?" remarked Steve, when Murray shook him out of the nice nap he had snatched, wrapped in his "serape," or Mexican blanket. "No breakfast, eh?"

"You don't know what tales a smoke might tell, or to whom it might tell 'em. Cold meat'll have to do for this time, and glad to get it. After that, Steve, you'll do the most dangerous riding ever you did."

"Why, are they so near?"

"Can't be many miles. Our first hunt, though, will be for a place to hide our horses in."

"Why not leave 'em here?"

"I thought of that, but we may need 'em."

Their morning ride was a longer one than Murray imagined, but before noon he was able to say,

"The backbone of the pass is miles behind us, Steve. All the rest of the way'll be down hill, or kind of up and down."

"Up and down" it was; but they had barely advanced another half-mile before Steve exclaimed,

"There they are, Murray!"

"There they are. What a valley it is, too! But, Steve, they don't mean to stay there--"

"A spy-glass! I didn't know you had one. How do you tell that they won't stay?"

"The glass? It's a double one. Some army officer owned it once, I suppose. I got it of old Two Knives himself. Nobody knows how it came to him. Look through it."

Steve had seen such things before, but had known very little about them. He did not even know how very good a glass that was with which he was now peering down upon the camp of the Apaches.

"See the lodge-poles lying there? In a dozen places?"

"They've put up some lodges."

"If they meant to stay, they'd put up the others. No use for us to go back. The Lipans are coming along."

"But how can we get any further? We can't ride right through them."

"I should say not. Nor over them, either. But if we can get into that pine forest over there on the north slope, without being seen, we can ride around them."

"I'll risk it, Murray."

"So will I, Steve. I'd never let you try a thing like that alone."

"I could do it."

"Perhaps. And you'll have a good many things of that kind to do before you reach the settlements; but I guess I'll go with you this time."

"You'd better go with me all the way."

Murray said nothing, but he sprang from his horse, and Steve imitated him.

Men on foot were not so likely to be seen from the Apache camp.

There was nothing in or about the camp which Murray did not carefully study through his glass, and it showed him what was going on more clearly and perfectly than even the wonderfully keen black eyes of Ni-ha-be had seen it from almost the same spot the day before.

"It's a hunting camp, Steve, but it's a very strong party."

"Too strong for our Lipans?"

"I don't know about that. If we could surprise them, by night, we might do something with them."

"I'm no Lipan, Murray. None of those people down there ever did me any harm. Did they ever do you any? I don't mean any other Apaches; I'm just speaking of that camp."

"Well, no, I'm not sure about that. I don't know that I've any special grudge against this lot."

"Seems to me it's a good deal like an Indian to kill one man for what another man did. I'm only a boy, and I've been among the Lipans three years, but I've made up my mind to stay white."

Steve spoke with a good deal of energy, and his robust form seemed to stand up straighter.

"You're right, Steve--don't you do a thing that isn't fit for your color. I won't say anything more about myself just now."

If anybody had been listening to those two that morning, or indeed at any other time, he might have noticed something curious about the way Steve Harrison talked. It was not to be wondered at that a veteran like Murray should be slow of speech, and it suited well with his white hair and his wrinkles.

There was a good reason for it. Except when talking with Murray, Steve had not heard a word of English for three years.

Yes, there had been one other exception. Whenever he had found himself all alone, he had talked to himself, asking and answering questions, and listening to his own pronunciation of the words.

"I shall get among white men some day," he thought, "and it would be a dreadful thing to be white myself and not to talk white. Anyhow, I've learned Mexican Spanish since I've been out here, and I'll be glad enough to forget all I know of Indian talk."

He did not know it, but some things he said sounded ten years older and wiser just for his manner of saying them. Besides, he had had to think a great deal, and to keep most of his thoughts to himself. Not a great many boys do that.

"Come on, Steve. That ledge isn't badly broken. Horses can follow it, and it heads away right into the pine forest. We must try it."

"We can get almost down into the valley without being seen."

"Yes, and we can find out if any good gap opens out of the valley to the northward."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

CHRISTMAS PREPARATIONS.

Now that Thanksgiving is over, the little folks are of course beginning to think about Christmas. And how many presents there are to make! And what are they to be?

The question is so bewildering that we know some of our girl readers will be glad to receive a suggestion. Who will make a warm pair of mittens for some cold pair of little hands? If the following directions are only followed, there will be no trouble:

These mittens are worked with white zephyr worsted and steel knitting-needles of suitable size. The knitted part is all plain, with the exception of a round of holes, through which is run a cord finished with balls. The cuff is crocheted in Afghan stitch, and is set on the mitten. For the mitten make a foundation of 36 stitches; close these in a ring, and knit, always forward, as follows: 1st and 2d rounds--all knit plain. 3d round--all purled. 4th round.--Always alternately throw the thread over, knit two stitches together. 5th round--like the 3d round. 6th to 50th rounds--all knit plain. But for the thumb gore in the 7th round widen 1 stitch on each side of the first stitch, working 1 knit, 1 purled, on each stitch before and after this stitch. In the 10th, 13th, 16th, 19th, and 21st rounds work one widening in a straight direction above the widening in the preceding round, the number of stitches between the widenings increasing by 2 in each round. In the 22d round take up the stitch of the gore and the stitches on both sides on separate needles, and finish the thumb in 12 rounds, working always forward. In the last 4 rounds close the thumb, narrowing three times, one above another, in a straight direction, at regular intervals, and work off the remaining 3 stitches together. Lay on the thread anew at the main part, and finish the mitten, narrowing in the last 8 of the 50 rounds four times at regular intervals, one above another, in a straight direction, so that in the last round all the stitches are used up. For the cuff, worked crosswise, make a foundation of 9 stitches, and on these work 3 pattern rows in Afghan stitch. The 4th pattern row is worked on the lower vertical veins of the pattern row before the last, and thus becomes raised. The 6th pattern row is worked on the third, and the 6th on the 5th pattern row. Repeat always the 4th to 6th pattern rows until the cuff is of suitable width. Join the stitches of the last pattern row with the foundation stitches, and edge the cuff with 1 round as follows: * 1 single crochet on the first edge stitch between the next 2 pattern rows, 4 chain stitches, 1 single crochet on the fifth following vein below, 4 chain stitches, 1 slip stitch on the first of the 4 chain stitches before the last, 4 chain stitches, and repeat from *; finally, 1 slip on the first single crochet in this round.

BUBBLE BUBBLE BUBBLE

BY MARY A. BARR.

Bubble, bubble, bubble,
For the little babies;
Good oatmeal and milk,
Fit for lords and ladies.
Jenny, set the table
With the spoons and dishes:
Soon my bonnie bairnies
Shall have all their wishes.

Take your places, children;
Keep the table steady.
Are your aprons fastened?
Are your dishes ready?
And such hungry children
No doubt will want double;
So, good pot, keep boiling,
Bubble, bubble, bubble.

Some of our little friends seem to have the impression that there is a charge made for publishing letters in this Post-office Box, and that theirs will be published if they send the money to pay for them. This is a mistake which we wish to correct. No charge is made for either the letters or exchanges we publish in this department. But even with the enlarged space now devoted to our young correspondents, we can print only a selection from the thousands of letters we receive. If we were to leave out all the bright stories and droll rhymes and all the instructive articles, and make up HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE of letters only, we are sure our boys and girls would protest against such a proceeding. We want them to understand that we are trying to make the very best Post-office Box that we can, and if the first little letter they send does not find a niche, they must wait awhile, and then write a second, and a third.

Scholars in the Latin class must adopt "Dum spiro, spero" as their motto, and pupils who have not yet begun Latin may take four little letters, H O P E, for theirs.

Please, when you write to us on business, be careful to sign your names in full, and give also your full post-office address. Do this in every case.

Continue to be patient, even if your exchanges do not appear. If only you knew how fast the exchanges come crowding in, you would understand why it is that we must keep some of them lying in a pigeon-hole when we desire very much indeed to have them translated into type.

* * * * *

FORT CUSTER, MONTANA.

I am a boy thirteen years of age, and live on the Little Horn
River, about ten miles from Custer's battle-field. We have quite a
number of cattle and a few horses. There are a great many elk,
deer, bears, buffaloes, wolves, and coyotes around here, though not
so many as there were a few years ago. There were a great many
Indians here in the spring. Two years ago the Crow scouts were
encamping about five hundred yards from our house, and one morning
about one o'clock the Sioux Indians came and stole all their
ponies. They exchanged about one hundred shots, but no one was
killed. The Crows all came over to our house, and were afraid to go
back to their tents until daylight. Next morning several soldiers
started in pursuit of the Sioux, and followed them for nearly three
weeks before they overtook them. They then had a fight; the
sergeant was killed, and they captured five Indians, and secured
the stolen ponies. I have never been out of Montana. I have never
seen a railroad car in my life.

I have two brothers and one sister, and a number of pets. My
brothers hunt antelopes in the winter.

N. H. D.

* * * * *

WISSAHICKON, PENNSYLVANIA.

I want to tell you about our bird Hensie. He is very cunning. He is
a young canary-bird, and likes soaked cracker. One morning my aunt
put a dry cracker in his cage. He took a piece of it in his bill,
hopped upon his bath-tub, and dropped the cracker in the water. He
watched it, and when it was soft, took it out and put it on the
floor of his cage, and began eating it. He has done this several
times since then. He tries very hard to sing, and imitates the
notes of the other canary-bird.

ROBBIE S. S.

* * * * *

BOUND BROOK, NEW JERSEY.

I live on the bank of the Raritan River. Am eight years old, and
have a nephew fifteen years old, who shot six wild-ducks the other
day. I had nine pigeons, but they all went away except two. We had
a dog named Duke, and a man shot him. This is the first time I have
written to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. A friend of mamma's in Brooklyn
has sent it to us ever since it was published. There are lots of
robins around here. Give my respects to Jimmy Brown.

PAUL Q. O.

* * * * *

CHIMACUM, WASHINGTON TERRITORY.

I live in a lovely valley surrounded by high hills and mountains.
It is a very pleasant place in summer, but very dreary in winter,
as nothing can then be seen except snow in every direction. The
nearest town is called Port Townsend; it is about ten miles from
here. The Coast Range of mountains looms up in the west, and they
are really magnificent when the sun shines on them. There is quite
a large creek flowing through my father's farm, from which we get
large speckled trout. Many people come from the towns to fish in
the summer. There is a smelting furnace at the "Beach," two miles
from here, where iron ore is melted. The place is called Irondale,
and is the nearest post-office to this valley. There is a great
amount of bog ore in this valley, and as it is only a foot below
the surface of the ground, it is easily mined.

BARTON R.

* * * * *

DEAR SANTA CLAUS,--Will you please give me a drum for a Christmas
present? I won't drum with it in the house, and I'll let my
brothers drum too. Papa said if I wrote to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE,
maybe you would see it, and send me one. I am seven years old, and
my name is Hammond W. I live in Monticello, Sullivan Co., N. Y.

Papa has taken YOUNG PEOPLE for us for two years, and this year it
is mine. Please put this in, so I can get the drum.

HAMMOND W.

* * * * *

My brother and myself have a little pony that is real cunning. I
was riding the other day, and a boy threw a snow-ball at her, and
she ran after him just as fast as she could go, and he had to jump
over a fence. The pony throws me off every time she gets a chance.
I put my arm out of joint a few months ago, and it is not strong
yet. I have a trapeze and some parallel rings. I can perform a
great many tricks. The water is nearly as high now as it was in the
spring. I was in Milwaukee a few weeks ago, and I saw the place
where Matthew Carpenter was buried, but did not go near it. I tried
to ride the bicycle that my brother rides, and I don't want to try
again. I have a collection of 950 stamps, and I will exchange rare
stamps, such as New Zealand, Servia, etc., for rare stamps and
coins.

C. B. BIRD, Jefferson, Wis.

* * * * *

APOLLO, PENNSYLVANIA.

I am a boy just twelve years old. My brother takes YOUNG PEOPLE for
Blanche and me, on condition that we shall not read novels. We are
having a new iron bridge, which will be free, built across the
river at this place. They have four piers built, and still have one
more, besides the two abutments, to finish. We used to pay toll
across the old bridge, which was carried away when the ice came
down the river last spring.

We have good coasting here in winter, as this is only a little
country town of about fifteen hundred inhabitants. Our school
re-opened in September, and will be in session six months.

I have three sisters and four brothers. Paul, the youngest, is a
chubby little fellow of two.

A. LINCOLN C.

* * * * *

COLFAX, CALIFORNIA.

In YOUNG PEOPLE No. 103 I saw a letter from Augusta C., South
Glastenbury, Connecticut. This young lady says she hates cats. I
should judge that she never had any. I disagree with her entirely.
Almost any cat, if fed well and petted, will make as affectionate a
little pet as one can desire. I have had a great many cats. When I
was a little girl, about five or six years old, I had a very nice
pussy, which I named Rose. She was exceedingly good and gentle, and
would allow me to dress her in my doll's clothes, and rock her in
my toy cradle. I have a very pretty kitten now. She is black, with
dainty white paws, and great sleepy yellow eyes. She is very gentle
and loving, and purrs loudly whenever I fondle her. I have named
her Niketa. I hope Miss Augusta will see that she is mistaken in
saying that _all_ cats are treacherous, and "care for nothing but
their own comfort." I know of many cases where cats have displayed
their love for human beings.

JEANNIE K. P.

* * * * *

EMMETSBURG, IOWA.

My little brother is off with papa in the country, and I hope you
will publish my letter so that I can surprise him, as I am going to
keep it secret. I am almost seven, and can ride nicely. We have a
pony named Bonny, and I have been riding all day; three of us
little ones ride at the same time, and sometimes four, but not far.
I had a cat named Fannie, and we had to have her killed this
morning, for she had an awful spasm. We had three pet lambs, Gypsy,
Topsy, and Flirt, but we have sent them to the farm for the winter.
Mamma is writing for me. "Good-night, and pleasant dreams."

DAISY O.

* * * * *

NEENAH, WISCONSIN.

I am a little boy seven years old. I have a dog named Rover. I go
to school to my auntie. I have no sister nor brother here, but I
have two little sisters in heaven. My mamma gave me an express
wagon. I am going to take YOUNG PEOPLE until I am a big man.

ALLIE HARWOOD L.

* * * * *

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY.

I go to the public school, and take advantage of all that my
teacher tells us. We have a very good teacher; her name is Miss H.
The boys and girls saved their pennies and bought pictures, etc.,
to decorate our room. Do you not think that it is nice to see that
your room is the nicest room in the school? When we are through our
lessons we can go to a table, which is called the reading-table.
Here you can find story-books of all kinds, and among these is
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. On the same table you can also find cubes,
scales, measures, weights, etc. We are all the time saying, If we
only could see something about our school! and I hope that you will
print this in the Post-office Box. We will visit HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE one of these days.

Is this written plain enough?

C. F. K.

Written so plainly that tired eyes were rested when they read it. It is a splendid idea to have that reading-table in your class-room.

* * * * *

ATHENS, GEORGIA.

I am nine years of age. I have a pet cat, and her name is Beauty,
and I have a dog whose name is Rex. I have a sister older than
myself; she is ten years of age. I go to school to Miss Fannie A. I
like her very well, although she sometimes scolds. I have an uncle
who sends us the YOUNG PEOPLE. I liked "All-Hallow-eve" very much.
My sister Hallie has a pet dog, whose name is Flirt. She is so
timid that if you go in the yard with a stick, and make believe
that you are going to whip her, she will get down on her stomach,
and keep right still until you go away. I think this is long
enough, so good-by.

Your friend,

ANNIE H.

* * * * *

WOODSIDE, NEAR LINCOLNTON, NORTH CAROLINA.

I wish again, my dear young friends, to thank you for the books,
papers, and the box of things for the Christmas tree that have come
since I wrote to you last. I am so glad you keep sending them, for
I find so many who need them, and to whom they will do so much
good. We have some money, and will begin having the lumber for the
school-house hauled to the mill to be sawed very soon now--as soon
as the men sow their wheat and get in their corn. The parcels I
have received have been from Miss Emma Joiner, Easton, Md.; Miss
Julia Langden, Elmira, N. Y.; Rev. David Strang, Lincoln, Tenn.;
Mrs. E. A. Clark, Battle Creek, Mich.; Miss Maria McRene Suydam,
Newark, N. J.; Miss Mary O'Neil, Miss Clara Copeland, Miss Harper,
Miss Millie Glover, Miss Hattie Burgess, Miss Cora Cote, Miss Livia
Mandeville, Miss Grace Webb, Miss Etta Coulter, and Miss Hattie
Plinney, Rochester, N. Y.; Miss Mary Harkell, Weathersfield, Vt.;
Master Charles Graff, Harlem, New York City; Miss Carrie Yardley,
Lockhaven, Penn.; Mrs. Harrison, Walnut Creek, Col.; Mrs. P. A.
Harrison, Dewbury, Barry County, Mich.; Miss McFarland and Mrs.
Snyder, Paxton, Ill.; Miss Miriam Oliver, Milwaukee, Wis.; Master
Paul Krughoff, Nashville, Ill.; Master N. B. Blunt, Lexington
Avenue, New York City; Miss Annie Wetzell, Grand Rapids, Mich.;
Master George R. Hitchcock, Champlain, N. Y.; Miss Helen Woodworth,
268 Ryerson Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Master Walter Anderson,
Nashville, Ill.; Mrs. S. B. Bortwick, South Amboy, N. J.; Miss
Ethel and Master Vivian Ketchum, Augusta, Ill.; Miss Minna
Mandeville, Kinderhook, N. Y.: Miss M. D. L., Madison, N. J.; Miss
Corinne Redden, Master Bertie Ellis, and Miss Winnie Needles,
Nashville, Ill.; Miss Slack, Bristol, Penn.

Our school keeps growing, and now numbers fifty-six. They are
learning very well indeed. They are now learning on Saturday
afternoons a carol to sing at Christmas! Not many can read; they
have to learn the words orally. They catch the tune very quickly.
They are looking forward with so much pleasure to the expected tree
at Christmas. I wish I could tell you what a happy time it will be
for them all, and how often I wish that you could all spend a
Sunday with us, and see how pleased they are to be learning. We
do--all of us who teach them--thank you so much for your kind and
generous help! I will write you all about the tree after Christmas.
Truly your grateful friend,

MRS. RICHARDSON.

* * * * *

JACKSONVILLE, ILLINOIS.

The Editor said that we little girls must write about our dolls, so
I thought I would. I have not seen any letters from this place. I
must begin to write about my dolls. I have seven baby dolls--Lillie
(a wax one), Daisy, Phoebe (she is wax too), Mattie, Ludie,
Boneby, and last a little doll, not an inch long, called Neil. I
had four birds, and they all died; three doves and five cats, and
they all ran away or were killed. I now have a white and black cat.
Mamma drives a spirited horse, and we all make a great pet of him.

GRACE A. M.

* * * * *

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY.

I am a little girl six years old. My brother takes HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, but I love to read it, and I read it all myself. I like to
read the letters best. I have been reading since I was four years
old, and we have had YOUNG PEOPLE from the first, and on rainy days
we get the numbers out and look them all over. We have two dogs
named Beaut and Snooze. Snooze has a "bobtail." I have a black cat,
with a few white spots, named Harry, and when I take him up he puts
his two paws around my neck, as though he wanted to love me. He
never scratches or acts ugly to me. I have three dolls, named
Fannie, Bessie, and Nellie. I have a cousin Anna, just my size, and
we play together often. I go to Sunday-school every Sunday, and
learn the Golden Text; then I get a pink ticket for saying it, and
when I have four pink tickets, I get a pretty floral card for
them. I study at home with mamma. I can read, spell, and cipher,
and now I am learning to write. I hope to see my letter in YOUNG
PEOPLE. Mamma is writing this letter for me, but I told her what to
write. Your friend,

HATTIE C.

* * * * *

WEYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS.

I have a hen-house of my own, and I am going to keep hens this
winter. I have fifteen brown Leghorns and a rooster. I have made a
silo, and filled it with sorrel for them to eat in the winter. If
any of the boys who read YOUNG PEOPLE keep hens, I would like to
hear from them. I have a cat that weighs thirteen pounds. I am
eleven years old.

H. EVERETT C.

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FAIRVIEW, LOUISIANA.

I am a little Southern girl nine years old. My grandpa has taken
Harper's publications as long as my mamma can remember, and has
taken YOUNG PEOPLE for me ever since it came out. I have never been
to a school, as there is none near us. I said my lessons to a
Northern lady who was visiting her sister last year for four
months, and she taught me all I know about writing. I say my
lessons to mamma now. I think YOUNG PEOPLE is splendid. I live on a
plantation about a mile from the Mississippi River. When it is
high, we can read the names of the boats. It seems so strange to
read about snow up North, when we have not had a frost. We have
geraniums growing in the yard, and plenty of roses in bloom. We
have nine pecan-trees; they are full of pecans. I have four dolls,
and lots of play-things. Bob, Buddy, and I have a play-house under
the grape-vine. I like to play with dolls very much.

H. M. S.

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BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.

I have three tame turtles. I put them all in a row to see which one
can go the fastest. But the two big ones have now made their way
into the ground, and left the little one behind, and so I have
helped the little one to make its way into the ground with the
others. I have a lot of pigeons, and I have some chickens. We were
going out to the woods to-day to get some autumn leaves and moss,
but it rained, so I thought I would write a letter to you.

JESSE W. P.

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MODIE G.--Your friend who thinks the Editor of YOUNG PEOPLE writes the letters in Our Post-office Box is mistaken. If she could only see what a budget awaits the Editor every morning, she would open her eyes quite wide with amazement. We are glad you learn to recite the pretty poems which are printed in YOUNG PEOPLE.

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Some of you are now and then puzzled and disappointed because your paper suddenly ceases to come to you on its usual day; you wonder what has happened to it. Let us tell you how to make such a provoking experience impossible. On the left-hand corner of the cover, just after the number of the volume, you will observe the number of the paper for the current week. Now look at the little printed label which bears your name, and on the right of your name you will perceive certain figures; they tell you the number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE with which your subscription will expire. Within a few weeks of that number's arrival, ask papa to please renew the paper for you, and it will then go on without an interruption.

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WILLIE AND OTHERS.--Mud-turtles are managed during the winter just as land-turtles are; that is, given a tub of wet sand, and allowed to burrow there and go to sleep, as they do in the marshes where they live in freedom. You will find paragraphs about turtles in the Post-office Box of Nos. 5, 28, and 51, Vol. I.

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C. Y. P. R. U.

So far as she can, the Postmistress answers questions and publishes letters in the order of their reception. Nobody need feel slighted if attention to him or her is deferred. The turn of each will come in time.

And now to reply to some of the inquiries which are winking their inquisitive eyes like animated interrogation points while the Postmistress puts on her thinking-cap:

What were the original Seven Wonders of the World? They were these: 1. The Pyramids of Egypt. 2. The Mausoleum built for Mausolus, King of Caria, by his queen Artemisia. 3. The Temple of Diana at Ephesus. 4. The Walls and Hanging Gardens of Babylon. 5. The vast brazen image of the sun at Rhodes, called the Colossus. 6. The ivory and gold statue of Jupiter Olympus, at Olympia. 7. The Pharos, or Watch-tower, built by Ptolemy Philadelphus at Alexandria. You will find it an interesting and profitable pursuit for the long winter evenings to read something about these Wonders in the pages of ancient history. These Wonders were given in the Post-Office Box of No. 61, Vol. II., but we repeat them for the benefit of the C. Y. P. R. U.

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I am asked why the capital of France was called Paris. It derives its name from the Parish, a tribe of aborigines whom Cæsar met and defeated in his conquest of Gaul. This tribe occupied the island in the Seine on which the famous Cathedral of Notre Dame stands.

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DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--Can I do anything toward beautifying our ugly,
old-fashioned parlor? It is covered with a horrid red and green
Brussels carpet, an abomination to artistic eyes. The family
photographs, in lozenge-shaped frames, adorn the walls, and the
furniture is hopelessly hideous. Can you suggest anything? Don't
mention Japanese fans or banners; mother wouldn't tolerate them.
Don't speak of unbleached muslin curtains; they wouldn't be given
house room. But do tell me how I can make the room look _livable_,
for that is just what it does not look at present. An old
school-mate is coming to visit me next month, and I blush to own
it, but I am ashamed to have her see our dreadful parlor.

HARRIET L.

The carpet and pictures, as you describe them, are discouraging. But people must do the best they can under the circumstances which are theirs. One of the pleasantest parlors I ever saw had a rag-carpet on the floor, and a map of the United States, bordered by the heads of the successive Presidents, on the wall. In the first place, keep your parlor resplendently clean; don't permit the suspicion of dust or the trail of stray shreds and thread on the too brilliant carpet. Admit the sunshine and air every day. Fill the windows with plants--blooming plants, if possible, but green, growing ones at all events. Fill a glass globe with sprays of tradiscanthia, which grows rapidly in water, and set that on the middle of the table. Bring your choicest books, and put them where visitors can read them. "Bread of flour is good; but there is bread, sweet as honey, if we would eat it, in a good book, and the family must be poor indeed which, once in their lives, can not for such multipliable barley loaves pay their baker's bill." I do not know why I think so, but I am very sure that you have some books in your house; and believe me, nothing furnishes a room more beautifully than a few books. I do not admire fans and screens very much myself, and I am no friend to curtains and tidies and such things, unless one has plenty of time to care for them. But you have doubtless a large, old-fashioned sofa. Make a generous-looking pillow to invite the weary head, and put it at one end of the sofa, and at the other lay a gay patchwork quilt. Study harmony, and even in an ugly room harmony will evolve a certain degree of beauty. Every parlor should aim at some high effect. The key-note of your aim should be comfort, and comfort carried to its ultimate superlative is luxury.

The only way I know of to make a room look _livable_ is to live in it. Sit in your parlor every day. Gather the household there every evening. Don't be ashamed of the friendly, familiar faces on the walls, nor, indeed, suffer in yourself any shame of any honest thing that belongs to you or yours, your home or your environment. So advises the Postmistress.

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We are indebted to the Rev. A. B. Russell, of Cumberland Furnace, Dickson County, Tennessee, for the following interesting item illustrating the reasoning power of animals. Necessity is the parent of invention, and even a hog, it seems, can do something which resembles thinking:

We passed a full-grown hog with a cob usually in its mouth,
especially when lying down, to enable it to breathe well, it having
had its nose torn off at the extremity, some months ago, by a
ferocious dog, to which I was witness. An instance of the reasoning
of animal mind.

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TO BRONZE PLASTER OR SOAPSTONE FIGURES.--Give them a sizing of glue; rub them down with a piece of flannel. Take equal parts of Prussian blue, spruce ochre, and verditer, and mix with water, oil, or turpentine, each separately; then mix together so as to produce the shade desired. Apply with a small brush.

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L. M. E.--There are several excellent agricultural colleges in the Eastern States. Among them are the State College of Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts, at Orono, Maine; the Massachusetts Agricultural College, at Amherst; New Hampshire College of Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts, at Hanover; College of Agriculture, in connection with Cornell University, at Ithaca, New York; Pennsylvania State College, Centre County, Pennsylvania; and State Agricultural College, at Burlington, Vermont. At any of these a student may be sure of the conditions which you mention.

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The members of the C. Y. P. R. U. will find in this number the conclusion of "The Wreck of the _Grosvenor_" to which we called their attention last week, and an article of great interest on the "Piano-forte," by Mrs. John Lillie.

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PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

No. 1.

DOUBLE ENIGMA.

In barter, not in sale.
In liquor, not in juice.
In umbrella, not in veil.
In either, not in choose.
In binding, not in wedge.
In island, not in ledge.
In rosy, not in pale.
In drooping, not in frail.
My whole are two favorite song-birds.

ELSIE FAY.

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No. 2.

A GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE.

My first is the initial letter of a river in England.
My second is that of a city in Pennsylvania.
My third is that of a river in South America.
My fourth, of an island off the coast of Labrador.
My fifth is that of one of the States.
My sixth, that of a noted summer resort.
My seventh, that of a lake in Switzerland.
My eighth, of a lake in Minnesota.
My ninth, of a city in Austria.
My tenth, of one of the British isles.
My eleventh, of a branch of the Amazon.
My twelfth, of a city in Italy.
My whole is something you have lately enjoyed.

KATIE.

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No. 3.

AN EASY ENIGMA.

My first is in mouse, but not in rat.
My second in kitten, but not in cat.
My third in stag, but not in deer.
My fourth is in milk, but not in beer.
My fifth is in stone, but not in sand.
And my whole is something that can not stand.

KATIE M.

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No. 4.

EASY WORD SQUARE.

1. A girl's name. 2. Death. 3. A token. 4. A mountain.

PHIL I. PENE.

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No. 5.

BEHEADINGS.

Behead a story, and leave a beverage. A boy's nickname, and leave a verb. Behead to annoy, and leave metal in its rough state. Behead a part of a tree, and leave the edge of a wall. Behead an animal, and leave a personal pronoun. The first letters of the beheaded words spell an indispensable article of furniture.

MAUD B.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 106.

No. 1.

Burlington. Gentian.

No. 2.

Fox-hound.

No. 3.

A M E N D
M A N O R
E N S U E
N O U N S
D R E S S

No. 4.

C H A R D
H I D E R
I R E N E
M E L T S
B R A S S

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Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Jonas D. Cooper, Bertie Wheeler, Arthur Zinn, Nathan Glucksman, Belle Walrath, Maggie Cushing, William A. Lewis, "Lodestar."

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The following are the names of the little folks who have succeeded in reproducing our artist's idea of Wiggle No. 22. We shall be glad if each will send us his or her address:

W. M. Duff, George Strauss, "Scamp," H. Hull, Sadie E. Lyon, Bessie S. Brown, L. H. Gibbs, "Tip," J. R., Peter B. Havenagh, J. A. H., Wilfred Hostetter, E. S. C. (aged six years), Arthur Beames, Carl Woodruff, and Gertie Davis.

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[_For Exchanges, see third page of cover._]

WHAT AM I?

I am brown or gray. I may be painted any color. Under some circumstances, I am very annoying to sensitive ears. As I make no sound, and am a fixture, so I can not annoy any one. My swift motion may give uneasiness to those unaccustomed to me, but as I am an act of mutilation performed by a person, which I am not, of course I can not stir. When in rapid motion, with all my equipments, I am a very pretty sight. To some, seeing me only suggests sickness and bitterness. I can't be seen, for I am intangible, and can only be heard. I can't be heard, for when I am done, no sound is heard, because I am an act, not a thing. I make no sound when in motion. Poems have been written in my honor. Many anathemas also have I excited, particularly from the sleepless. Yet I don't see how it is possible for _me_--colorless, brown, soundless, sharp, rasping, tasteless, bitter, motionless, vibrating, quiescent, gliding--to excite either pleasurable or the contrary emotions in any one. Absolutely valueless, save to my owner, I play an important part in commerce. I am an article of merchandise, and very expensive. A little of me goes a great way, and costs a great deal. I take up very little space. In spacious quarters I require a large amount of leeway. Large revenues are derived from me. I can be had for the taking, and generally am regarded as a nuisance. No one can like me, I am so disagreeable; yet to many I am the dearest thing they own. No owner would willingly part with me. I am a protection, a home, and, to crown all, I am vegetable, mineral, and medicinal.

ENIGMA.

The lady treads her lofty halls,
Her robes are long and fine,
And because of my first their velvet folds
With softest, lustre shine.

And when the revel and rout are done,
And the robes are laid away,
Again my first the lady takes
Through half the livelong day.

Through every land beneath the sun
Where Nature's touch we find,
It's never my last that's "more than kin."
Though always "less than kind."

The sweetest lips that e'er were kissed
Have to my whole been pressed:
It rests on the knees of feeble age,
On the infant's tender breast.

He did not read his book, but ate a deal of cake.
And so, although he tried, he could not keep awake;
Thus fast asleep he fell, and very, very soon
He had a horrid nightmare, in the afternoon--
The table grew an elephant, the cake changed to a tiger,
And gobbled up his little self, who turned into a ni'ger.