LETTER No. 3 FROM BESSIE MAYNARD TO HER DOLL.
Old Orchard Beach, August, 1880.
Dear Child,—It is two weeks, I do declare, since I have written you one word, and what a state you must be in all this time; for I remember perfectly well how suddenly my letter closed, just at the very smilax of that awful adventure. But really, Clytie, so many things have happened since, and every minute is so full of pleasures or catastrophes, that, as I look back, that one seems almost insignificant.
I suppose you are surprised at my using such large words; but here we meet a great many "people of culture," as they are called, and they are all very busy "improving their minds"; and you know Solomon says, "Never do till to-morrow what you can put off to-day," so I am trying to improve mine too, while I am under their confluence.
Papa bought me a little pocket dictionary, and I look out all sorts of words in it, and that is how I get so many big ones that perhaps you don't quite apprehend, but I must use them inasmuch.
Excuse me for scratching out inasmuch, I should have said nevertheless. When I am not quite sure of a word, I look it out, for I always have my little dictionary close at hand, and that is a great conveyance, you know. I am trying to get over my babyish way of talking, or at least of writing, and hope I may exceed.
HOW WE LOOKED AFTER IT HAPPENED.
But to go back to my story: where was I? We were crossing over the board to the island, weren't we? Well, Fan was going ahead, wheeling Jane in her carriage, then Dora and Snip, and me on behind with Moppet in my arms. Randolph stood in the water, and watched his chance till we were all fairly on the board, and then he gave a regular Indian war-whoop, and threw himself right across the middle of the board, and shook it with all his might, so that it jiggled awfully right up and down. Before we had time to scream or to paralize our danger, over we all went, pell-mell, helter-skelter, higgledy-piggledy, down, down, down into the foaming water! What do you think of that, Clytie? Every single one of us—dogs, Jane, carriage, and all! 'Twas worse, a thousand-fole, than when we lost Lucille. Fan sat right down on the pebbles at the bottom of the sea, and gave herself up for lost. I threw Moppet as far as I could on to the beach, while Dora screamed: "You hateful boy! Go at him, Snip! bite him! throw him over! eat him up!" And Snip did go at him, as if he would "tear him limb from limb," as the story-books say.
Randolph looked scared out of his wits, and without waiting to help one of us, he turned and ran as fast as he could go, and never stopped till he was safe back at the hotel, the mean coward that he is! We heard afterward how he ran into the house with such a roar as to frighten every one there, crying out at the top of his lungs, "They've set the dog on me, and he'll kill me!" Did you ever know such a horrid boy?
As for the rest of us, we scrambled out as best we could, by the help of the other boys, for, to tell the truth—and you know, my Clytie, I always do that, and never mean even to inangerrate when I am telling a story—the water was not very deep where we fell, not more than half way up to our knees, and we often go in wading there; but it seems a good deal deeper when you are dumped right down into it without any warning. Now wasn't this a teragical end of our picnic on the island?
A few days later Mrs. Peyton and her party left Old Orchard. Where they have gone I do not know, but we children believe they went away on Randolph's account. We tried to treat him politely, but how could we? I don't think any one would blame us for turning our backs on him whenever he appeared, and only saying good-morning to him in a lofty way over our shoulders. He neverdently didn't like it, and proberly coaxed his mother to go away.
Whatever other people can do, I am very sure I shall never be able to love my emernies. Love Randolph Peyton! Just think of it, Clytie, I'd be ashamed to love such a mean boy even if I could, emerny or not. I truly hope we may never see him again.
Such heaps and heaps of things as I shall have to tell you, dear Clytemnestra, when I get home! No letter would ever be long enough to get them all in. There will be enough to talk about all next winter.
You don't know anything about the clam-bake we had last week, nor how Dora and I got lost one day in a cave—a real boner fidy cave, as papa says, dark and dreadful, where smugglers used to hide their things.
I'm saving up lots of things to tell you some day, and if your eyes don't open wider than ever before, it will only be because something is the matter with your wires. Such fun as I am having this summer! And, oh, Clytie! what do you think? Mamma is busy packing the trunk, and we are going away from here to-morrow. We are going with some other people to Mount Desert, 'way round the coast of Maine, ever so much farther than this.
It is lovely everywhere here, and I don't believe Maine is half so crooked and queer along the shore as it looks in the geography, and I'm going to tell the girls so when I get back to school.
There's no sense in working so hard on our maps if 'tisn't true, and Maine was the very hardest State of all to draw, for 'twas so awful jiggly along the edge. Really, it isn't so a bit, for I have seen it, and ought to know.
Here come Snip and Moppet, and I hear Fan and Dora rushing up stairs for me, so I will bid you good-by, or "orevo," as I heard Dr. Le Baron say to Miss Farrar when he went away last night—that is, it sounded like orevo. I don't know as I spell it right, for I can not find it anywhere in my dictionary.
With ever so much love to the rest of the dolls, as well as to yourself, dear Clytie, good-night.
Your little mamma,
Bessie Maynard.
WASHING THE BABIES' FACES.
THE GREEDY LITTLE MOUSE.
BY E. C.
Tottie and Lillie were twins, with the same wide-open blue eyes, the same rosy dimples, and bright yellow hair. One day, when they were seated at the little table in the nursery eating their dinner—for they were too young yet to dine with mamma—Tottie thought she saw a little black bead shining in a hole by the closet door. No, it could not be a bead, for it popped in and out. Presently out came a little pointed nose, with long stiff whiskers, two little round ears, and two bright black—not beads, but eyes. The children sat very still, and thought they had never seen anything quite so pretty as the little plump body and long graceful tail whisking rapidly and noiselessly, while the little creature peered cautiously about. Lillie threw gently a little piece of bread, but terrified little mousie thought it was surely intended to kill her, and flew back to her stronghold in the closet. Tottie now put a little piece of bread quite close to the hole, and they sat motionless for it to re-appear. They had not long to wait; the bread was too sweet a morsel for mousie to resist, and they soon had the great pleasure of seeing her first nibble a little, and finally drag it into the hole. Lillie said, "Oh, don't you know, Tottie, mousie is the mother, and she has a lot of little children in her house, and that is going to be their dinner: let's give her some every day." And so they did, until mousie grew so tame and so wise she seemed to know the dinner hour as well as they, and would come nearer and nearer, and run in and out under the table picking up the crumbs; but she was ever a little distrustful.
If any one made an effort to catch her, or made ever so little noise, off she flew to her hole, and would wait, and peep out for some time, before she became re-assured. But when every one was fast asleep in bed, then she became more brave; but with all her fine feeding, Mrs. Mouse could not overcome her nature, and, I grieve to add, she was a thief. She would rummage in pockets for cake and goodies, and climb to the highest shelf if she smelt any dainty, and so, alas! fell a victim to her greedy propensities.
Nurse had put a bowl of liquid starch, on the shelf in the closet, and mousie, thinking she had a fine treat, scaled the side, and reaching over for the dainty, lost her balance, and tumbled in. The fluid was too heavy and the sides too steep and slippery for her to escape; so, after vain endeavors, she sank exhausted to the bottom.
The next day, and the next passed, and no mousie came at the usual hour. Tottie said she "knew the old black cat had caught her." Lillie said she "knew the children were sick." So she threw little bits down the hole for her. But when nurse went for her forgotten starch, the truth was revealed. Poor mousie was dead. Many tears fell; and although the children had many toys, nothing was equal to that sly, active, bright-eyed, live little play-fellow.
Groesbeeck, Texas.
I am twelve years old, and am a constant reader of Young People. I think the story of "The Moral Pirates" is the best of all.
I am a member of the "Groesbeeck Cornet Band," considered the best band in the State for practice. I play second B flat cornet. I live not far from the railroad, and I have a little engine of my own that runs by steam. I was born in London, England.
Sam Risien, Jun.
Vandalia, Illinois.
I have taken Young People from the first number, and papa says he will have it bound for me if I keep it nice. Lots of times, when papa brings it home, and dinner is just ready, I go without my dinner to read it.
I have three little ducks for my pets. They are real greedy when I feed them, and they fly upon my shoulders to get the first bite.
I am making a little cook-book, and would like any recipe from the readers of Young People.
I am much obliged to Etta D. for naming her Paris doll after me, although I don't suppose she knew she did it.
Rosa Bell H.,
Staten Island.
Dotty Seaman is my sister, but I am two years younger than she is, and I can not write very well yet, so she is writing this letter for me. I must tell you about my pets. I have a blue-bird that bites very hard when I try to catch him. He is very wild, but I hope he will get tame. My little sister Lucy has a pet lamb named Will. It was very cross the other day. We have a bay horse named Sue, and I ride round from the door sometimes. It is great fun. I like Young People very much, and I love to make Wiggles.
Willie I. S.
North Andover, Massachusetts.
I have noticed that several correspondents of Our Post-office Box inquire how to preserve eggs. Eggs should always be blown, for if they are not, they gradually change their color, becoming darker than is natural. Besides losing the delicacy of the tints, they are also easily broken, while if blown, they can be dropped quite a distance without being injured.
In order to blow them, make two holes on the same side, a little distance apart. The holes should be very small. Boys often make them twice as large as necessary. It is better to make them both on the same side, as that side can be placed down in the case, and the egg looks neater.
Harry W. C.
Taylorsville, Texas.
I love to read the letters in the Post-office Box very much, and I like the story of "The Moral Pirates." Do you know whether Frank Austin, the hero of "Across the Ocean," is living yet?
Joseph L. P.
Yes, Frank Austin is living, and often comes into the office of Young People.
Brooklyn, New York.
I am nearly thirteen years old. I have taken Young People from the beginning, and I think it is the nicest paper published.
I have a collection of postage stamps, and am saving money to buy a stamp album. My father has taken Harper's Weekly and Monthly ever since I can remember. I wish Young People much success.
Can you tell me why some correspondents sign fancy names to their letters?
Charles C. M.
You probably know that many great authors sign a nom de plume to their writings, and some little authors like to do the same. Our young correspondents, with but few exceptions, send us their real names, even when they desire the publication of a fictitious one, and it would please us better if they would always do so.
Jackson, Mississippi.
I am eight years old. I am writing this with my left hand, because my right arm is broken. I have broken it three times.
I had a little turtle, but it died. Now I have a pet goat.
Harry D. F.
Hoboken, New Jersey.
I wish to tell Kittie G. that I tried her recipe for butterscotch, and found it splendid. I am glad she liked mine. I also tried Fanny S.'s recipe for caramels, and it was very nice.
Rebecca H.
I am five years old, and can not write myself, but my sister is writing for me, and I tell her what to say. I have some pet Plymouth Rock chickens, and they are all named. My brother Wilton has four beautiful pet pigeons, and one of them is making a nest. I have four cats, and a setter pup named Dash. Uncle Jimmie lives with us, and takes Young People for my brothers, Wilton and Eddie, and myself, and we all like it very much. Wilton reads everything in it.
I have some beautiful morning-glories that have been blooming ever since the first of June, and I will send some seed to any little boy or girl who would like some, and will send me their address.
Mary Earle,
Evergreen, Anderson County, South Carolina.
Denver, Colorado.
I am very much obliged for my nice little paper, Young People. My uncle gave it to me for a Christmas present, and it amuses mamma and me very much.
My only pet is a nice canary. When I let him out of the cage he flies and picks the buds off from mamma's plants.
We can see the snow on the mountains all the time here where I live. I am twelve years old.
Lulu.
Los Angeles, California.
I am seven years old. I like to read the letters in Young People so much that I want to write one myself. I live in a large orange grove. It is a lovely place, and summer lasts all the year.
My pet is a hen named Tinny. She is so tame I can pick her up anywhere. She has eleven little chickens now. I can not write very well, for I have been to school only eight months.
Nellie E. C.
Monticello, New Jersey.
I think Young People is the nicest little paper that I ever saw. The only pet I have is a dear little baby sister. I am eleven years old, and I have been to a private school two years.
My papa is an editor, and in a year or two I am going to study stenography so that I can report for his paper.
I have two younger brothers, and we are all learning to swim. I can take fifteen strokes.
George E. W.
Netherwood, New Jersey.
Here is a recipe for cookies for Nellie E. O.: One cup of butter; two cups of sugar; one cup of milk; one egg; one tea-spoonful of royal baking powder; a little grated nutmeg; flour enough to make it very stiff. Roll very thin. These cookies will keep good a long time. I have made them, and I know they are good. I am twelve years old.
Eva Louise P.
May M. Vinton, Mabel Lowell, Alberta F. Morrill, and K. R. send very nice recipes for candy, but they are so very similar to recipes already published that we can not make room for them. We would request the young housekeepers to avoid repetition as much as possible, for while we thank them all for their favors, we can only print such recipes as are new.
I would like to exchange for some birds' eggs a collection of Christmas, New-Year, and birthday cards, about sixty in number, and all in good order. Most of them are as good as new. If some correspondent would write to me, stating the number and the varieties of eggs he would be willing to exchange with me, we might agree on terms.
Vance Martin,
243 Dearborn Avenue, Chicago, Illinois.
I am ten years old. My aunt takes Harper's Young People for my sister and myself.
I would like to exchange pressed leaves and flowers with some little girl in California.
Maud Everett,
Newark, Delaware.
I am collecting different kinds of seeds, and I would like to exchange them with any correspondents of Young People. We have only purple and white larkspurs, and if Mary Lowry has any other colors, I will gladly exchange pink seed for them.
Dotty Seaman,
Richmond, Staten Island, New York.
Some boys, friends of mine in this part of Brooklyn, are going to start a young chemists' club, and I desire recipes for simple experiments from any readers of Young People.
I also send a recipe for Puss Hunter's cooking club. Currant ice-cream: one table-spoonful and a half of currant jelly or juice; one cup of sugar; one pint of sweet cream; the juice of one lemon. Stir until the sugar is thoroughly melted, and freeze.
I will exchange flowers, ferns, leaves, and mosses from the Long Island woods with any readers of Young People.
Charlie Williamson,
293 Eckford Street, Brooklyn, New York.
I tried Fanny S.'s recipe for caramels, and thought it was very nice.
I would like to exchange postage stamps with any boy or girl.
J. Fred Seaman,
114 Cumberland Street, Brooklyn, New York.
My home is eighteen miles from St. Paul, on Lake St. Croix. It is a beautiful lake, and is navigable for large steamers, and there is splendid fishing here for boys. We find many specimens of carnelian on the lake shore. It is a species of agate or chalcedony. I would like to exchange some for any curiosities from any other State.
Carrie E. Silliman,
Hudson, St. Croix County, Wisconsin.
I have taken Young People from the first number, and like it very much.
I am collecting birds' eggs, and would be pleased to exchange varieties with any of the correspondents of Young People.
I have six catalogues of the birds and eggs of Ohio, which I will take pleasure in forwarding to any six correspondents engaged in collecting, if they will send me the necessary postage.
Walter Douglass,
Mount Auburn, Cincinnati, Ohio.
I subscribed for Young People immediately on seeing it. I liked it ever so much then, and I like it more and more all the time.
I have a lot of United States, official, and foreign postage stamps that I would like to exchange with any readers of Young People (especially with those just beginning a collection, as I have not many rare stamps) for minerals, curiosities, or relics of any kind.
Correspondents will please write to me, stating what kind of stamps they would like, and what they have to exchange for them.
George M. Finckel,
P. O. Box 368, Washington, D. C.
If Paul R. H., of Philadelphia, whose letter was in Post-office Box No. 35, will send his address to Annie M. Wickham, Titusville, Pennsylvania, she will send him some Canton and Hong-Kong postage stamps for his collection.
A dear friend sends me Young People every week. I have all the numbers, and enjoy them very much.
I tried Puss Hunter's recipe for cake, and found it very nice.
I am seven years old, and have been to school only one term, but mamma taught me to write more than a year ago.
I have two flower beds of my own, in which are geraniums, verbenas, heliotropes, pansies, daisies, and forget-me-nots. I would like to exchange some of these pressed with Genevieve, or any other little girl.
May Doolittle,
19 South Union Street, Rochester, New York.
I have a small stamp collection of two hundred and fifty different kinds, and I would be glad to exchange with any readers of Young People. I am thirteen years old.
Ernest Aroni,
Bloomfield, Nelson County, Kentucky.
I would like to exchange minerals with some one in a Western or Southern State.
Edwin O. Jordan,
Thomaston, Knox County, Maine.
I have a pony of my own, and I ride him almost every day. I would like to exchange stamps with any readers of Young People. I have about four hundred stamps.
Pierre Jay,
Mamaroneck, Westchester County, New York.
I am collecting postmarks of different towns and cities of this and foreign countries. I have only two hundred now, but am very anxious for more, and would like to exchange with any reader of Young People.
Stanley K. Hawkins,
United States Hotel, Boston, Massachusetts.
I am eleven years old, and my brother is nine. We are making a collection of butterflies, moths, and bugs. We have caught three hundred different kinds, and would like to exchange with any boy or girl in the Western or Southern States.
William M. Low,
No. 129 Wooster Street, New Haven, Connecticut.
Albert S. Barrett.—It is impossible for us to help you. Try some of our exchanges. You might arrange to send them minerals, or some other natural curiosity, in exchange for what you wish.
Yesterday morning auntie, uncle, and I went out for a long walk over the mountains. When we reached the ridge, about a mile and a half above us, we could look off and see one of the great peaks of the Sierra, at the base of which is one of the best paying quartz mines in California. It was a splendid sight—the great mountains towering up to the sky, while on the top of one higher than any of those immediately surrounding was the great black rock of the Sierra Buttes. The lower part of the rock was covered with snow, and behind it was the pale, misty, dull, blue sky. Off to the eastward the ridge was covered with snow, and we had a walk on a snow-bank several hundred feet long, and from four to six feet deep. When we reached home we had some ripe cherries for dinner.
I keep every number of Young People, and auntie sews them together for me with twine. Her Harper's Bazars, Magazines, and Weeklies are all fixed the same way. I think Young People, is the best paper for children that was ever published. I have told my mamma, who lives in San Francisco, where I was born, a great deal about it.
I am pressing some flowers for Genevieve Harvey, for although I live in the same State, uncle says we do not have the same kind of flowers here in the mountains as they have in the valley. We have some very beautiful and curious flowers up here, and I should be glad to exchange pressed mountain flowers for Eastern flowers with any little girl.
Mary Augusta Reid,
Downieville, Sierra County, California.
Charlie W.—Iris was the daughter of Thaumas, a sea deity who represented the majesty of the sea, and Electra. Originally she personified the rainbow, but came afterward to be the swift messenger of the gods. Homer alludes to her as darting "like hail or snow that falls from the clouds," from one end of the world to the other, and diving into all the hidden depths of the universe to execute the commands of the gods. In ancient art Iris is represented with wings and a herald's staff.
Aurora, or Eos, was the Goddess of Dawn. She was the mother of Boreas, Zephyrus, Eurus, and Notus, the north, west, east, and south winds. Another of her sons was Memnon, King of Æthiopia, who was slain by Achilles. Ever since his death Aurora has wept constantly, and the dew of the early morning is caused by her tears falling to earth. Aurora is pictured as driving a chariot and four horses, or as gliding through the air on wings, hastening to announce the arrival of the God of Day.
John Jacob.—As you do not tell us what style of reading you prefer, it is a little difficult to tell you what books to choose. History is always good reading for a boy of your age. You would find Macaulay's History of England both valuable and interesting, and a small volume entitled A History of Our Own Times, by Justin McCarthy, might be read in connection with it. The historical writings of Motley and Prescott are also standard works of the greatest value. If you prefer biography, the "English Men of Letters Series" will give you a complete outline of English literature. It would be foolish for you to buy books which would simply amuse you for a short time, and we trust you will select wisely, and lay a solid foundation for a valuable library.
Favors are acknowledged from Fred Dierking, E. C. P. and W. P., Edwin F. Edgett, Harry R. Bartlett, "Waterloo," Robert R. T., C. E. S. and K. T. W., Josie Frankenberg, Elwyn B. Bentley, Mamie Brooke, Samuel McMullin, L. V. Nunemacher, I., Nellie L. Hutchinson, Cora A. Binninger, W. R., Fred Haswell, Walter S. Nichols, Willie R. F. Grant, Eva M. W., Selma Witzel, John Avery, Maud Miller, Johnnie H. Fletcher.
Correct answers to puzzles are received from W. Gilmour, George L. Rushy, Bessie G. Bartlett, N. N., Helen M. Shearer, S. McK. Bayard, Little Belle, Maud and Gertie, Mary A. Reid, Ernest C. Steward, Eddie A. Leet, George G. Seitz, Cora Frost, George S. Schilling, Rory Barnhart, George Haywood, Ford M. Goff, George Volckhausen, S. E. Davis, A. H. Ellard, Katie M. Griswold, Bessie G. Strong, L. Mahler, Hattie Smith, S. Hart, S. G. Rosenbaum.
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
DOUBLE ENIGMA.
Our firsts in dimple, not in cheek.
Our seconds in dahlia, not in leek.
Our thirds in stagger, not in fall.
Our fourths in rampart, not in wall.
Our fifths in window, not in pane.
Our sixths in tempest, not in rain.
The names of two amusing birds
Are hid away within these words.
Frank.