[to be continued.]
SPRING AND FALL STYLES FOR BOYS.
[OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
Come, dears, gather around the Postmistress, while she has a moment to look at you, and let her see how many merry faces she can count in the throng. There are some which are paler than they should be—little Gustave's, for instance; but no wonder, for he has been very, very ill, so that the house was all hushed on his account, and papa and mamma were afraid they would have to say good-by to their darling boy. But God answered their prayers, and now he is getting well fast, and soon will be as strong as ever. Here is Phœbe, who sends her love, but does not know how to write a letter. Never mind, dear; the love is the best part of any letter, and you will learn all about the rest when you are older. There are Kitty, Molly, Ted, Margaret, Frank, Bobby, and Jack, and ever so many more. The Postmistress knows your names by heart, and is sure she would know you if she happened to meet you on the way to school some bright spring morning.
She wonders if you would be willing to share your luncheon with her, and let her peep into your school-books. She doesn't wear spectacles, and she hasn't seven-league boots, but her eyes are pretty sharp, and she thinks she could walk as fast on her feet as Robin A. says he can on stilts, and she would not need more than one glance at a girl's exercise to know whether the little lady did her best,
Or did not work,
And tried to shirk.
And now for our letters, children.
Wayne, Illinois.
I am a little girl seven years old. I have a doll; her name is Amy. My papa bought me some calico, and I am making her a dress, and mamma says it is done nicely for the first one. Papa went to St. Charles yesterday, and bought me some card-board and worsted, and I think it will keep me busy for some time. I can work my name. I hope my letter will be printed.
Alice M. K.
We thank Miss L. C. for her kindness in sending us the nice little budget of letters from her pupils. They were all of nearly equal merit, and those children whose letters are not printed may be sure that we liked them just as well as we did that of Allie D., which follows:
State Centre, Iowa.
Our reading class have been reading out of Harper's Young People instead of our Readers this term, and I like it very much. In No. 114 was a very interesting article on the sponge, and for our examination last month we had to write a composition on it. In No. 117 was a very interesting article on the cigarette. I think if boys and men knew what is in cigars and cigarettes, they would not smoke them. Just think of men and boys smoking cigars that are made up of stubs that are found in gutters in large cities! I think some of your puzzles are very interesting. I like the monogram puzzle very much. You have had some very pretty illustrations in your papers, especially the "Little Dreamer," which is pretty enough for an oil-painting. I have not been very much interested in the "Talking Leaves," because we did not have the first numbers; but we are waiting very patiently for the next story by Mr. Otis.
Allie D.
Pictou, Nova Scotia.
I am a little boy living in Pictou, Nova Scotia, in the Dominion of Canada. Papa takes your paper for me and sister Eliza, and we like it immensely, as we hear some people say about anything they like very much. It is now winter with us; we have a heavy fall of snow on the ground, and it is banked up as high as the windows at our house. The harbor is frozen over altogether down as far as the light-house, about three miles from town, outside of which it hardly ever freezes, but is open all winter. Some parts of our harbor are three miles wide, other places one mile. The ice is now about one foot thick, and carries horses and sleds with large loads of coal. It is marked in many directions with long rows of trees not very far apart, which were put into holes in the ice when it was about four inches thick, and having frozen there, they stand quite firmly. They are for guiding people on stormy days and nights, when they can not see from shore to shore.
There are extensive coal mines about eight miles from us. Some of them are very deep under-ground, but others are not, but the coal is brought up a slope in wagons on wheels. I was up last winter, and saw the men and boys that work in the mines. They were terribly black with coal dust. Each of them carries a safety-lamp, which gives but a feeble light in such dark places. I was up two winters ago, and saw one of the places for myself. At one of the largest mines, about two years ago, there was an explosion, which killed forty men, and ruined the mine. It has never been worked since. For days and days you could see great clouds of smoke rising toward the skies from where we live. Our town is not large; there are only 4000 people in it. But we have some fine houses and public buildings. We have a $20,000 brick and stone academy, with 200 students. We have a railway connecting us with other places in the Dominion and the United States. My papa has travelled a good deal; he has been in Boston several times, and in New York and Philadelphia. He was at the Exhibition there in 1876. He thinks it was a bigger show than Barnum's Circus, which was here some years ago. I wish I could visit your great city, and see the East River Bridge, and the elevated railway, and Broadway, and all the other great sights.
Willie M. H.
Brooklyn, New York.
I don't believe that any of the subscribers of Harper's Young People enjoy reading it more than I do, though I can not read much for fear of hurting my eyes, so I read a little every day. When I was sick papa read it to me, as I could not read it then. I wish Mr. Otis would hurry, and give us the story he promised. I like Jenny Wren, or "The Little Dolls' Dressmaker," the best of any story in a long while. I have no little pets. Like a great many, I go to school, and have to study my lessons quite hard to know them. I received a very handsome album for advertisement cards Christmas. I hope my letter will be printed. Mamma says it will not, and I said it would; so please put it in the paper. I never wrote before.
Camille P.
No doubt the girls will all laugh with pleasure, and the boys throw up their caps with delight, when they see that Mr. Stubbs's Brother makes his bow in this very number. We expect he will be rather more popular than poor Mr. Stubbs, and that is saying a great deal. The story is very bright and entertaining, and Mr. Otis could not write a dull one if he tried, could he, children?
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
I am eight years old, and papa writes for me what I say in this letter. I have a doll, dressed in baby clothes, called Daisy. Mamma knit a pretty afghan for her of pink and white. She goes to sleep under it in her carriage. Mamma knit her a hammock. I have a larger doll, who is Daisy's mamma; her name is Violet. She has a muff and hat and shawl; the muff is made of cotton flannel, trimmed with silk. My boy doll Ray is the baby's papa. The baby doll's aunt, Doll Elsie, gave me Harper's Young People for a Christmas present.
Edna.
Shrewsbury, New Jersey.
I am a little girl eight years old, and have taken your nice paper for two years, and like it very much. This morning a dog came into our shed, and we let him into our house; he was a beautiful dog, with great long white silky hair, and great black spots over him; his ears were just as black and silky as could be. You said to tell about our pets and dolls, so I will. I have no pets except an old puss, which I love dearly—his name is Jack—but I have a lovely waxen doll with flaxen hair; her dress is of light blue satin and plum-color mixed; it is trimmed with lace. My papa is a traveller, and is away eight months a year; Please put this in the Post-office Box.
Annie L. P.